The weather changed to let us know to prepare for Autumn. It always whistles to let us know, towards the end of the Festival. The sun flirts its way east to west across each August sky, and dutifully pursues the companionship of the wind halfway, slyly blowing in a new direction. The sun’s rays are handcuffed, swirled round each wrist , and hauled, bound and gagged, across the sky. A periodical act of BDSM before the auburn blanket folds and falls, gently tucking Edinburgh into bed.

Myra Ariyaratnam, Leith, Edinburgh