Dark shadows under the trees. The main door to the tenement where I used to live propped open with a house plant. People are moving out. Into the cool of the stairwell, the slim wooden bannister curving upwards, spiralling to an Edinburgh sky of undecided mood as clouds flit across the glass. Boxes of things coming down the stairs, taking a breather at the turn of the stair. A a cat lives in the flat now – a wonky flap at the bottom of the door.
dominique cameron 