These poems you're about to experience inhabit the spaces between places and between people: railway platforms, unfamiliar streets, coastlines, rooms left behind, names remembered in another country. They follow the distances that can be measured on a map and those that cannot.
Across the pamphlets, places become vessels for what has been left behind. A city can hold the trace of a person and a journey can become a way of travelling towards something that is no longer there. Memory alters geography, making distant places intimate and familiar ones unreachable.
The poems move through departures and returns, encounters and absences, the tenderness of what survives in recollection. They attend to the small things through which the past continues to surface. The light in a room that no longer exists as it once did.
Here, distance is never simply measured in miles. It gathers in silence, in changed circumstances, in the interval between one life and another. What is far away can remain astonishingly close. What once stood beside us can become impossibly remote.
Taken together, a geography of remembrance and a collection of places, people and moments continue to exert their quiet pull long after we have moved beyond them.
These are how I felt, that one season in the sun.