‘Oxytocin’ by Betty Doyle

  It’s like nobody has ever done the dishes together before – on a Wednesday, with all the kitchen lights on and the moon huge, lemon-yellow. The quiet clatter of china meeting in the sink. The low hum of the fridge as its motor clicks in. I love these sounds, their taking place in the arrangement of our life, the simple way they present themselves … Continue reading ‘Oxytocin’ by Betty Doyle