“Your trouble is you’ve got no poetry in your soul!”  “What’s a soul?” Blood still channelling fiercely through Jim’s veins, his heartbeat slowed to the impact of a car running over a pothole: bo-boom. “Look! The only book I’ve ever read that I wasn’t forced to is my bird book. Other than that, it’s just comics.”   His awareness that this scene was not being played out in real-time allowed him to reflect that this statement was no longer true.   (A Funeral for an Owl, www.jane-davis.co.uk)

“Your trouble is you’ve got no poetry in your soul!” “What’s a soul?” Blood still channelling fiercely through Jim’s veins, his heartbeat slowed to the impact of a car running over a pothole: bo-boom. “Look! The only book I’ve ever read that I wasn’t forced to is my bird book. Other than that, it’s just comics.” His awareness that this scene was not being played out in real-time allowed him to reflect that this statement was no longer true. (A Funeral for an Owl, www.jane-davis.co.uk)

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