Iona Winter

Category: awareness

  • Eggshell

    I fish around the bowl, for bits of eggshell that have dropped. “No yolk, only the whites,” my grandmother’s mantra. The shell eludes me. A small piece darts around the layers of white—thick and deceptive. Like lies, I think to myself. Like lies.

  • Resolute Blankness

    Another calendar year has passed. And a new one has begun. Where will this year lead, or should I be leading it? ‘The Novel’ has morphed into a concise, punchy short story. I sent it off the other day to several literary journals (both here in NZ and overseas). I felt sadness and…

  • About Face

    Kia ora dear readers. I humbly apologise (once again) for the lack of contact. There’s been an about face. Things being as they are in writing-land, I’ve decided to set free ‘The Novel’, aka masters thesis/conglomerate of thoughts, speech and action AND have returned to basics. Actually, I’ve gone back to some of the ideas…

  • Underbellies

    I looked up at the sky today through some plastic roofing, and watched the birds hoping across with their forked feet and soft-feathered underbellies. It gave me a completely different perspective. One I don’t think I’d seen before—or perhaps hadn’t allowed myself to see. I have a thing for birds, seeing them as messengers,…