Barbara Campbell

I remember that it took place at dusk. It had rained heavily during the course of the day and the darkness set in early, even earlier than you would expect in late autumn. We had to make a sort of pilgrimage in the dark, walking round the little cube-shaped room, peering out from under our umbrellas into the four brightly lit windows.

(from the essay by Anne Brennan in Flesh Winnow, 2002)