You wake up thirty minutes later than usual. It’s Friday, life is good, and the morning is here! The dishes in the sink aren’t a hassle to clean, their chatter as they are washed and stacked mingle together with the songs of sparrows outside the window. They seem ever excited for the new day and […]
Read More FridayHave you ever gripped a pen, having its blackened tip just above an empty page? I have spent eons at that precipice, countless thoughts and ideas being thrown over the edge in uncertainty, feeling each unworthy to be made permanent upon the page. So now I simply reflect that there is little else to write about but this […]
Read More Progress of a writer; Day 23The man is in a state of animation. His body in motion. He is not just another body on the street. Not just walking by with his head held down. His head is up; his eyes out; mouth open. The traffic between us mutes his words, but I can see their effect on his body. […]
Read More Cold EggsFor those interested, the following is a description of the morning of a young author… The author wakes a little before dawn. Not out of practice or discipline but out of necessity from a stomach ache that could no longer be ignored or treated by rolling over in bed. So the author finally rises, first […]
Read More Progression of a writer; Day 20At the cusp of dawn, I dreamt of a song I can no longer remember. It’s tune lost in the split of light as my eyes open upon a new day. It worsened my mood, and I found myself without fail rising on the lesser side of the bed. My body felt stiff and the […]
Read More A Lost Dream
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