I can't remember when I became so mainstream. It's always easy if the tragedy happens to someone else. It's been taught and re-taught how to sigh and say how sorry you are, or how it shouldn't have happened. But I've still swapped my potato chips for the chocolates as an emotional eating ritual. And like... Continue Reading →
How Winning is Done
*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 →
The First Day
Seeking and offering neutral advice is a philanthropic act more than one of authority or rationality. Who's to say you won't be swayed by the quester's feelings and pass judgement in their favour? Or how can one know if you're a true altruist and you would offer your thoughts as pennies to give away? Seeking unbiased... Continue Reading →
Enchantment
She made a locus of sparkling youth and brazen dreams around her soul's polar axis. While others persevered to harmonize with theirs, she danced around her axis in circles of non-conformity. She lay in gutters dreaming of stars, drank until each atom of her body vibrated with the mirth of the wine, and kissed every... Continue Reading →
The Missing Pen
"I sent you a pen too." "There was nothing else in it." "Strange. I did pack it in." *** Rubaiah's dreams were transcendental in nature. Filled with bizarre exigencies that camouflaged themselves within long moments of silence, they ensconced within them a world unknown. They magnified emotions rather than faces and took her places she had... Continue Reading →
Desiderata
A stubborn, arid wind galloped past his ear as he walked on the pavement. Golden stings sent forth by the ball of fire landed on his face. He tried to use his coat to protect himself from the attack, but the wind didn't relent. A dry storm is on its way, he thought. In that moment of... Continue Reading →
Dubliners
I've just finished reading Dubliners by James Joyce. When I picked up this collection of short stories, it was to discover for myself what the whole deal about Joyce really was. Alternatively, it was also because I thought reading short stories was taking the baby step to reading Ulysses. When I was reading the first... Continue Reading →
Dialogue
His eyes are small. He doesn't look like he walks much. Neither does he look like he talks a lot. His face isn't one that you can read and know stories of how long he pored over his work to get it right. Or how his faint wrinkles show long hours of reading. You can't... Continue Reading →
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