Denise Cruse


Free-falling through time, space and memory.  Feeling clouds of dim recollections rush past me as I plummet downwards, wanting to stop the fall to examine the images more closely.  Free-falling through light and darkness, startling colours and sepia tones.  Once the fall has started, it’s unstoppable, exhilarating and leaves me breathless.  I struggle to capture what I see and feel as I swoop down and there is always the sense of something beyond my reach.  I can’t remember the beginning of the fall, and there is certainly no end in sight, only a rushing in my ears as the wind brings memories and long-forgotten conversations back to me.  I have no control over my descent. Now that it has started, the writing takes me where it wants to, illuminating dark corners, shedding light on the present and blowing fresh air through me.  When I  was  a  child  I  dreamt of falling through a billowing white cumulus cloud  and feeling its magic around me.  As I free-fall now   the dream becomes reality through writing.