Margot McCuaig, The Birds That Never Flew

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We sat still, our breathing loud and rhythmic, its music melancholy, a traditional song of sorrow.

Margot McCuaig, The Birds That Never Flew

abuse domestic-violence glasgow literary-fiction scotland the-birds-that-never-flew thunderpoint women

We sat still, our breathing loud and rhythmic, its music melancholy, a traditional song of sorrow.

Margot McCuaig, The Birds That Never Flew

abuse domestic-violence glasgow literary-fiction scotland the-birds-that-never-flew thunderpoint women

We sat still, our breathing loud and rhythmic, its music melancholy, a traditional song of sorrow.