We chose the opposites further away at dinner tonight. Broasted chicken from last night, steamed canned corn and soda from the grocery downstairs was all the effort we could put in tonight for our empty, appetite less stomachs. We stalled conversation and chose to listen to the news we have already read in the afternoon on our phones.
The rooms lit up in purple with a splash of white from the worded light telling you where you are. There are posters of the 70s, The Beatles, and lyrics of songs you’d look up on your way back home. The wall of mirrors on the left corner would add space to the studio but the illusion is broken with frames in matte bronze, brown and unfitting geometric shapes. You can smell the leather from the couches huddled in the centre with sufficient cushions in different textures of white and, cream.
We plan relations like
We plan futures.
We see our today and,
Assume our tomorrow.
The curtains are up,
The lights are on,
They’ve called out action
And it’s time for the act.
So I’ll tell you the story
That makes you clap
And come again
To watch my show. Continue reading Rolling
I’ve got two blue shirts folded in front of me on the bed covered with black as I fold the third. I’ve let the chiffon curtain fall over the window letting the orange dance into the room. I stop midway as I stare down at the pattern and memories printed on it. I can feel the five o’clock warmth wrap itself around me but only through the sweater of fifteen months ago. I gently trace the polkas and kalkas, afraid to erase the memories yet trying to reach them one more time.
Some stories take a lifetime to complete
Some, a breath.
Some stories leave your heart all warm and floating
Some, leave you with an ache that fills you with hollowness from within.
Some stories are made to happen
Some, just happen.