Author: Dale Harcombe

My daughter raises the smooth brass kaleidoscope and watches as coloured glass slivers conspire together. New worlds create themselves before […]

All week, in this rented house, sea spray and whispers of wind weave through the eucalypts, like a Sondheim melody. […]

Frail as smoke, she drifts through the crowded train, bringing with her the cold ashes of poverty. Without a word, […]

Your ears will never hear sounds that to me are ordinary as air. From the hour that you were born […]