Cusp It was taken by James that first summer. The angle’s pretty low but you can still see the river: that thin dark crack through the background. We’re both sat cross-legged – me knotting grass, you saluting the sun – our knees almost touch like God’s hand and Adam’s… I use it as a bookmark (for now it marks my whereabouts in Fournier’s Lost … Continue reading ‘Cusp’ by David O’Hanlon