MORNING MOOD by EDVARD GRIEG Fiction by Mir-Yashar Seyedbagheri
The music conjures images of a new person. A person who can smile, laugh, interact.
MORNINGSIDE by NEIL DIAMOND Story by Jane Leonard
I’m watching Dad working on the huge driftwood table he’s been making out of wood that he’s found and dragged home from the beach.
Most Of The Time by Bob Dylan. Story by Vin M
I am sitting in a blue Laser sedan under a streetlight in a back-street in Brunswick. A Yorkshire rapper is in the passenger seat fiddling with a cassette and the car’s tape player.
MOTHER AND CHILD REUNION by PAUL SIMON. Story by Maria Haughey.
The burial went quickly. Quicker than planned. The weather turned just before the rosary. A localised storm – affectionately recorded for posterity as Hurricane Maureen – came rolling through.
MOTHERS TALK by TEARS FOR FEARS. Story by Lauren Pearce
In the spirit of moving on, I looked up and streamed the album that gave us Everybody: Songs from the Big Chair. Over the next few days of my respiratory virus and associated insomnia, I became intimately familiar with it.
MOTORCYCLE EMPTINESS by MANIC STREET PREACHERS. Story by Grace La Pace.
The six-minute masterpiece Motorcycle Emptiness truly was a rare opus in my incredibly mundane life.