This collection traces the fragile geography between love and loss, memory and distance. Through rivers that cannot be crossed, hospital corridors that never sleep, and objects that hold more memory than the people who left them, these poems map the quiet aftermath of connection.

From harbours at dusk to fluorescent-lit rooms, from photographs that refuse to stay still to leaves pressed into devotion, A Strange Thing to Hope explores what remains when people do not.

It is a collection about waiting, about departure, and about the impossible tenderness of still loving something that is already gone.