Keira McArthur

I think about reflection, and Oscar Wilde pops into my intuitive fishing net.  He brings his Dorians Grey for discussion – the beautiful ageless public face and the ever more twisted and toxic one hidden in the attic. Oscar the bon vivant who hides a keenly perceptive heart behind his great wit – he’s good company when I’ve […]

I stare at the handle of a red screwdriver and use my ears to see the space around me.  There are tires scribing the wet street three floors down; the clock ticks each second in counterpoint to the keys on my laptop.  Furnace just kicked in like a huge breathing thing acres wide and deep; […]