Writer

  • The Unfortunate Story of A Large Dog.

    The German Shepherd changed things. She considered revenge, but then, he had always nurtured a sick fantasy of being mistreated by women. How inconvenient life could be at times. Still. He had known she would only consider small dogs, and… Continue reading

  • Writing

    It comes when it is ready to come. It chooses, I have no say. I just feel and write what the feelings translate to. A miraculous marvel. A beauty of life I’m so, so thankful for. Continue reading

  • The Orange Light. Micro Fiction.

    Burnt orange light feels safe. Pop’s old library is full of it; lamp dappled walls, beautiful to look at, even more beautiful to feel. How do you describe a feeling? You can only feel, and open up so others can… Continue reading

  • The Quiet

    The quiet has come upon me, and so I have to write. It’s a strange quiet, a wonderful one, however mixed with a soft melancholy. It’s been with me, on and off, for as long as I can remember, and… Continue reading

  • The Carpet

    The wind was crisp and the sun sang warm to my skin. The rest of the world was too fast to know bliss like that. The truth is: the truth is too expensive; a depth of emotion most are unwilling… Continue reading

  • Imagine

    Sometimes, I wonder if I can still write. Not just write, as in, write any old words. I mean, I sometimes wonder if I can still write fiction that peels my skin from the bone. Words I read back after… Continue reading

  • Creativity Rises

    I intend to write one thing and another is born. Creativity rises. It controls me, not the other way around. The poem I’ve just written began with a feeling of being stuck. Stuck in COVID lockdown. Stuck in a middle… Continue reading

  • A Mysterious Animating Force

    The sweet divinity that lingers at the edge of life. Writers and artists know it well. Actors and musicians feel it within their bodies. And none of us have any clue as to what it is. Not even those who… Continue reading

  • The River I Am

    The river I am. I fall in love with the next creative thing, and there I stay for a while (but not forever.) When I create, I flow, I cannot be boxed. I am sometimes a writer. Sometimes a musician.… Continue reading

  • Creative, Loving,Life

    I’m very aware of the rich soil of this place. How I am peeking through the soft earth, unravelling beautifully. How I am fully becoming myself. Over these past few weeks, I’ve been allowing myself to be as I am,… Continue reading