Posted in Journal Blog

January 3, 2020

Day 11,


“If you have the ability to love, love yourself first.
Charles Bukowski “

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Posted in Poems

Crumbled Papers

The marks that I drew on your skin,
Those tracing light-years of distance between us,
I see those eyes glimmering, the imposition of
An imprint bygone.
A heretic resilience, A silent rebellion
That painted the skies with water,
That sung a hymn of peace, appealing.
It was never peaceful inside out.
I drew with love, with care
On those busy stretch marks,
As it folded forever, in a crumbled paper.

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Posted in Journal Blog

Merry Christmas.

Day 2,


“Writers imagine that they cull stories from the world. I’m beginning to believe that vanity makes them think so. That it’s actually the other way around. Stories cull writers from the world. Stories reveal themselves to us. The public narrative, the private narrative – they colonize us. They commission us. They insist on being told. Fiction and nonfiction are only different techniques of story telling. For reasons that I don’t fully understand, fiction dances out of me, and nonfiction is wrenched out by the aching, broken world I wake up to every morning.”


~Arundhati Roy, The God Of Small Things.

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