Luke Allan
Ursula Cheng

Carolyn Angelo
Tobias Cook

Tom Benn
Kirsten Cowie

Emily Bone
Andrew Denholm

Sarah Christie
Elizabeth Stewart

Jack Clark
Eileen Glass

Edward Keeble
Imogen Scott

Kerrick Newstead
Anette Fritsen

Laura C-Harries
Lindsay Grime

Daisy Dawes
Alison GlanvilleJones

Sam Elliot
Laura Darling

Martin Gaston
Gillian Kirkland

Mary-Caitlin Hentz
Sarah Tanat-Jones

Kirsty Kelly
Jaimie Lane

Miranda Jackson
Trine Mangernes

Ailish McA Green
Lindsay McBirnie

Gina Mortlock
Lucy McCririck

Richard O'Brien
Elizabeth Walker

Vidur Nauriyal
Sophie Newell

Sophie Playle
Marc Noble

Kirsty Smellie
Fiona Purves

Frankie Taylor
Genevieve Ryan

Name's Kerouac. Beat poet parents, you know? Weird as anything, but the best I could have asked for. Mom's living in Switzerland now, dad's wallowing in brain juices in some rehab clinic or another. People call me Jack for short, partially because of the last name and because I apparently resemble Jack Nicholson, which is a blessing and a curse... I mean, it makes my day when someone'll ask for my autograph, but it gets creepy when they ask me to do that scene from The Shining. How old am I? I've heard from 25 to 50. Hair's going peppered, but my teeth are all mine. I'm actually 32.

            What do I do? What don't I. I work at the museum on weekends, am a roadie for whatever band needs me whenever they do, a lecturer during the week- odd stuff like obscure mythology. My students think I'm crazy. Some of them. Don't blame them, really. I do some metalwork, too. Don't make anything useful, but the weirder people around here make sure it sells well. And it gives me a good excuse to listen to Billie Holiday. I take care of the cat, too, if that counts; a grey one with green eyes named Shiva. She belongs to my fiancé, thinks she owns me. But then I guess that's how cats are.

            My fiancé though, she's what gives life meaning for me. She's in India right now, sorting out things with her family before she comes to live here with me. It's been a month since I've seen her, and even though she said she'd be fine over there, when your worst fear is losing the one you love, it's hard to believe it. I don't think I've slept right since she left.

            Aside from that, what's to say? I like the smell of pineapple juice (too many tropical holidays, I think), the room in the Indian restaurant down the street- on the wall in the back there's this fantastic map, all geo-topographic stuff laid out in curves and lines. Gives me something to think about while I eat my curry.

            That's about all there is to me. Or at least, all that really matters. I'd go on about my dreams or aspirations or something like that, but aside from being with the woman I love, I don't take any of them seriously enough to dwell on them for very long. I'm happy just being the strange guy with the Nepali jacket who people say always looks like he has something on his mind that he's not telling anyone.

TEXT by Carolyn Angelo + IMAGES by Tobias Cook