*Although the incidents of this story are fictional, the premise is from real life.* It was a humid day, and she wiped the sweat on his forehead with a white and blue napkin. The trains stood tired and stared at each other unable to make basic conversation. She got into one of them and he gave... Continue Reading →
There is something heart-warming about a letter in the mail. No, not those kinds that deflect their cowardice on you for some sort of self-importance. (Yes, you. I’m talking to you. You’re on my blog. Happy much?) Going back to the part about the letter in the mail. I use email quite a bit, and... Continue Reading →
In an ideal world, I would have moved cities, bought myself a small apartment and a cane basket to lower down the window, should I need groceries or fresh bread. I would take apart all connections, only to make my old parents that one phone call every first of the moon, to say that I... Continue Reading →
They didn't say anything about wrapping love and keeping it aside. Or if they did, she must have missed the memo. Because all she had ever known was to squander her affections on people who crossed her lives, and left souvenirs behind. She didn't collect them, of course, but they were there, reminders of what she had given away, and... Continue Reading →
...has it become so difficult to tell people that you love them?
I'm full of half-written poems hidden inside me which tremble at the sight of day; but they cast soft glows inside me when he warms me up and the glitter from my eyes trickles deep within me and stays there for days adding words to staggered verses I write for him, staying incomplete and inert and still refusing... Continue Reading →
Then Pecola asked a question that had never entered my mind. "How do you do that? I mean, how do you get somebody to love you?" But Frieda was asleep. And I didn't know. - The Bluest Eye; Toni Morrison
The office library has been extended, and brand new books have been placed upon bookshelves. What pulled me inside the library was a view of the lined up stack of the P. G. Wodehouse Omnibus. The communication about the extension had come across, somehow, my laziness kept me from visiting the place. There are books... Continue Reading →