SIMON PARKER
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She

She found herself on the Askew Road watching the girl’s hands at the dough. Fold, push and press. It wasn’t the first time. She wasn’t sure how many times, and she wasn’t quite sure how she got here, but here she was. Again. The girl sprinkled more flour on to the marble top. Fold, push, press. Fold, push, press. Fold, push, press.

She has lost something and she won't settle until she finds it

Extract
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  • Home
  • Blog
  • Theatre
    • Aching Parts
    • Take me to where the arrows no longer fall
    • The Right Kind of Violence
    • Own Goal
    • Mooring
    • Yellow Fever
    • Just Like Flies
    • Snap
    • Home
    • Vex
  • Fictions
    • Gross
    • The 7.22
    • For Those Who Trespass
    • Karaoke
    • We Only Notice When It's Gone
    • This is a story that I am going to make a story out of
    • Les Anglais en Vacances
    • She
    • La Comedie Humaine
  • POETRY
    • Unfolding
    • Street Scene
    • Said and done
    • Ingres and Delacroix share a coffee
    • If you follow the silk road
    • In him we trust
    • n.b. for Barney
    • Who Can Erase The Traces?
  • LIVEWORKS
    • Notes from a wanderer
  • News
  • New Page
  • Contact