The light crept up between the shutters; The sparrows flitted in the gutters. Sitting along the bed’s edge,  She curled the papers from her hair And clasped the wooden god In the palms of both soiled hands.  The city of Chairn was muggy in the evening. Smoke from the factories and heat rising from the river met in the air and formed a sticky fog. Through the fumes shone the sun, not yet setting, and through the fumes stood ornate stone buildings. Phoebe walked from the west of the city...

Dear Reader, When I decided to research publishing and decarbonisation, I did so half-heartedly. I knew it was important to do, but I was...

*Listen to the audio version* Dear Reader, Hello again. How have you been? Have you followed my advice yet? (to only buy books printed on...