The website of writer and poet Daniel Bennett
‘“Because that means it’s the city. That means it’s the landscape: the bricks, and the girders, and the faulty wiring and the shot elevator machinery, all conspiring together to make these myths come true... Do you think a city can control the way people live inside it? I mean, just the geography, the way the … Continue reading Myths and Cities
During the evening, when the weather held off, after eating a solitary meal in his flat, Mitchell would walk along the coastline. These walks felt idle and aimless, often leading to nothing more than a different point along the sea's edge, but his thoughts were relaxed, and he felt, actually, content. Prison now behind him. … Continue reading An Island
Winter had bitten. Mitchell walked to work across the frost. In the deep cold of early mornings it was stubborn and pervasive, singeing glass and metal with its creeping whiteness. He became fascinated by the larger patterns it created over the wide surfaces of the Court— the window panes of the swimming pool, the metal of … Continue reading Whiteness
Prompted by Hannah, Axl told Mitchell about his school for entertainers, which he ran out of a squat in Stockwell. "All I ask is your time and your enthusiasm. Be you banker or Prime Minister, I will turn you into a clown!' This gave way to stories of his time as part of theatre troupes … Continue reading Elephant
Later, the three of them had walked out along the beach. The plan had been vague and impetuous. Dragan wanted to swim in the sea, Krista told him it would be too cold, they began squabbling, chasing one another out towards the edge of the water. From somewhere they'd acquired a bottle of brandy, a … Continue reading Ice Floe Sky
He met the footballer not long after. Another resident had called down to the cabin to complain about a ball being kicked from the roof, and Mitchell had gone up to investigate. He had assumed that it was children, either those from the Belgian family or even a group from the town. But as he … Continue reading Footballer
She hunched down, resting upon her folded arms, and she stared at him. 'I think you were in prison.' 'Well,' he said. 'I'm right aren't I?' She must have seen the reaction in his eyes. 'Yes,' he said. 'You're right.' She seemed to expect him to congratulate her, or at least acknowledge the way she … Continue reading Thieves
One night, while Mitchell had been trying to sleep in his car, the woman from the flat upstairs had passed him on the street. She went in through her front door, but after five minutes she returned, knocking upon the passenger's side window. 'There's no room for you to stay, but at least I can … Continue reading Good Man
Only when Mitchell had walked down the stone steps did he realise that the whole bay was covered with shoes, thousands and thousands of shoes. One of the policeman stood on the sands at the bottom of the steps, ordering the prisoners to collect as many as possible before the tide turned. No word about … Continue reading Shoes
'The port smelled like nowhere else in Arkanar. It smelled of saltwater, rotten pond scum, spices, tar, smoke, and old salted meat; the taverns reeked of cooking, fried fish, and stale beer. The humid air was thick with swearing in many languages. Thousands of strange-looking people thronged on the piers, in the narrow alleys between … Continue reading The Port
Absence Club 