The website of writer and poet Daniel Bennett
Vapour A road trip. That old saloon: deep bluefinned in a quaint English way,more sea bass than marlin. No destination.We were testing freedom, heading out across the fen landscape, where aircraftbuzzed tree crowns and farm buildingsand tore away, stitching trailsacross our temporary portion of sky. Read more online at Ink, Sweat and Tears
'We who were not there cannot possibly understand how they came like flies: swarming up all of a sudden and buzzing over the horizon, thickening the sky with their heavy shadows. We were playing poker at Jimmy's-beer sweating, fans going round and round, the sound of pool clicking the moments by. Everyone admits it: we … Continue reading Louisiana Loses Its Cricket Hum
We bought fresh orange juice on the street and moved away from the main square, deeper into the barrio. The building lay behind a high iron fence, the gate dismantled to leave the way clear. A hard sun. Ash-coloured walls sliced with red aerosol daubs, that hurried, runic script which is the same in any … Continue reading At The Palazzo
‘Later, as he sat on his balcony eating the dog, Dr Robert Laing reflected on the unusual events that had taken place within this huge apartment building during the previous three months.’ High Rise, JG Ballard
‘It is exceedingly thoughtless to send a young boy out on an urgent and important errand into a night like that, because in its semi-obscurity the streets multiply, becoming confusing and interchanged. There open up, deep inside a city, reflected streets, streets which are double, make-believe streets. One's imagination, bewitched and misled, creates illusory maps … Continue reading Make-Believe Streets
After returning from Indonesia, I found a short term research job with the Unit of Disaster Management, an obscure research unit located in offices outside of Waterloo. On a nine month contract, my duties were low level and banal, but gradually, as my work became appreciated and deadlines loomed, I moved onto more important projects. … Continue reading A Pressed Red Flower In The Abandoned Archive
'Utz had an idea, derived from Russian novels or his parents' love affair at Marienbad, that a spa-town was a place where the unexpected invariably happened.' Utz, Bruce Chatwin
