I remember you asking me, what if the only autobiography is a few stains on the shower curtain and an online shopping history? Would I regret it? As we stand on the crowded bus, my fingertips brush against the spine continue reading
Month: Jul 2022
Nothing left but small talk
When there is nothing left but small talk, like a sip of water, the silence goes smoothly along with a bag of scorned books and a bundle continue reading
Sunday morning
It’s Sunday morning. Someone on the telly mentions Wordsworth. You know him vaguely, akin to one of those random Latin proverbs you try to impress others with while pretending not to notice labels dangling from your wrists. It’s Sunday morning. continue reading
The tower
My name is Rapunzel. I live in the tower. Nothing fancy, but no point in complaining. After all, who is to notice that the cheap wallpaper has long since stopped pretending continue reading
What can’t I see?
When I was young, I used to read novels. I read a lot. And then I stopped. Probably because I wished for something more, something better, something real.continue reading
hidden pilcrow 