“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 on her tastebuds. Without him life was so dark, and all the holiday debris only made… — Kirsty Logan Copy Share Image
“The graces are restless today. They pweet and muss, shuddering their wings so that the feathers stick out at defensive angles. I feel that restlessness too. When the sea is fractious like this – when it chutters and schwaks against… — 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.… — Kirsty Logan Copy Share Image
“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
