“Painted and smiling, I balance on my trapeze. Luka is poised ten metres away, his muscles shining under the lights. The wooden circles in his earlobes twitch as his jaw clenches, unclenches, clenches.” — Kirsty Logan Copy Share Image
“It began with the Christmas tree lights. They were candy-bright, mouth-size. She wanted to feel the lightness of them on her tongue, the spark… — Kirsty Logan Copy Share Image
“Ishbel read maps like storybooks. She was getting off the island, and no one was going to stop her. That was all just romance,… — Kirsty Logan Copy Share Image
“I look at the world below us: the restless crowd, the glare of lights, the motes of sawdust in the air. 'Say you want… — Kirsty Logan Copy Share Image
“They see the straight line of my jaw along the length of their thighs and they see how it fits, the geometry of bodies. They have wondered for so long why nothing ever fits, why the knobs of their spines press hard on chairbacks and why they can't lie parallel in bed, and then there I am. I know how… — Kirsty Logan Copy Share
“We fall asleep as close as ears of wheat: chest to back, fingers entwined. I kiss the skin at the nape of her neck,… — Kirsty Logan Copy Share Image
“Walking out of the office, her nervous fingers made an ear out of the tissue in her pocket – luckily the thin sheets wouldn't… — Kirsty Logan Copy Share Image
“Elimae was a magician with a key in her mouth, a foreign language, a matryoshka doll: uncomplicated on the surface, but with a dozen… — Kirsty Logan Copy Share Image
“Once upon a time there was an empress, trapped as a ghost in the ruins of a jewelled palace, cursed to find another soul… — Kirsty Logan Copy Share Image
“That August, Elodie Selkirk became the latest lady in Paris to order a coin-operated boy.” — Kirsty Logan Copy Share Image
“Walking through the hospital's main entrance, with Hope's grip squeezing tight her hand, Lauren sees Saint Felicity cradling the bones of her seven murdered… — Kirsty Logan Copy Share Image
“Momma was with the pony last night. Lily and me have him in the mornings, and we give him a wash with the shammy… — Kirsty Logan Copy Share Image
“I met Baba Yaga at the end of childhood – past pigtails and fairytales, but not quite ready to give up on make-believe.” — Kirsty Logan Copy Share Image
