December 2009
2 posts
1 tag
1 tag
Toffee, by David Harsent
There was a man who made toffee; he would leave it to cool on a blue-veined marble slab by the open window of his shop, which was little more than a tin-and-timber lean-to in the Street of Songs. There was a man who made small animals and the like – horses, mostly – from scraps of steel the plough turned up: high-grade stuff he could fine-tool; while he worked he would sing, as if he had someone...