"Ellis had slept under the bed for a week now. Ever since the windstorm had come, she'd been frightened. Not afraid of anything in particular, no concrete fear. She wasn't afraid of wind, after all - she'd played with wind, throwing leaves at it to watch them dance and laughing, hands shielding eyes, at sand spun in whirlpools of air. The wind she was used to didn't bring down trees, smash greenhouses and steal away the neighbours' cat."
Join us for a tour of deserted urban spaces, and cities you might not recognise. Poetry by Cheryl Carman and prose by Suky Goodfellow. Music by Gurdonark.