I seem to have forgotten how to write about nothing - the great wide expanses of absence. Why must everything be something? Have meaning? Fall into line? Be coherent? I've beaten myself silly about not categorising thoughts inside the margins of my journals because they need to go into an essay, a piece somewhere, a... Continue Reading →
She forgot to grow up and take the big decisions in life about mortgage, the inevitable haunt of love, and how much sugar she wants in her tea. She spent her time beading her fragmented thoughts into the minutes which turned into long necklaces of hours and her interrupted self. So, when the time came to decide where... Continue Reading →
His eyes spoke to me and piled on volumes and volumes of poems about an open field of sky and chaffed grain on the doorstep. I asked him questions about his life and never heard the answers because the clouds in his eyes paraded his pain, his longing, his joy, and his fire. They never... Continue Reading →
Diffraction Often, in the kaleidoscope of my life I stop and look at the scattering light. I see tiny hexagons as peepholes. When I bend over and look through them, I see myself. I see the world. I see through these fragmented lenses and I drink in the colours of the sands, the joy of... Continue Reading →
I want to distance myself from my dreams the ones that I held on to ever since I was five those that slipped quietly into my sub-conscious when I was drifting through my early life because now they're piercing into my bosom and bleeding my heart I want to distance myself from my dreams because... Continue Reading →
Currently, I have a passive-aggressive relationship with Time. Whenever I think I'm going to catch up, it sneaks into a rabbit hole where I cannot go. So while I grapple with my ineffective time-management, I reminisce on the year that has been all while wishing for a red, apple-shaped alarm clock. Alas, Santa Claus has... Continue Reading →
Because it matters to say thank you. Because it matters to say that it means something. Because the universe needs to know it is cherished. That I am grateful. Because I can read those poems Dickinson wrote and copy them neatly in blue ink on black ruled lines in diaries I kept during school. Because... Continue Reading →
Our village has been blessed with telephones. More communication, they say. Quicker, faster, bringing people closer; and you don't even have to go anywhere. Aunt Polly, who never ceases to tell stories of her nephew who is sailing the high seas, has more tales to narrate. Some of them, I'm sure, are fabricated. Whoever heard... Continue Reading →
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