“If I could, I’d give you the world, but I can’t, so I hope you’ll accept everything that I do have.” There are so many promises that I’ve heard. So many you’ve filled me up with. You lather every single one onto my skin like butter, preparing my body to be placed into the patiently … More Clean Kitchen (vignette)
Preserving things is an art. My family has had a long history of preserving things, just like a lot of other families from where I come from. We practice the art on a daily basis, honing our skills almost unknowingly, preserving even the very skills to preserve. But it is not a skill that you … More The art of preserving things.
What does it mean to express yourself? This is a new question that I’ve been pondering, and if I have to be honest with you, it’s one I thought I would never have to ask myself. I’ve always thought of myself at someone who’s good at expressing themselves. When a psychologist asked me recently, “how … More What does it mean to express yourself?
I was 9 years old, halfway through 5th grade in a new school when our class teacher shifted everyone’s seats to make us less noisy. I got placed with a boy I knew only as the quiet friend of the loud class monitor. He had a strangely-shaped face that was pleasantly memorable, and wore big … More A boy from my memory
:format(jpeg):mode_rgb():quality(90)/discogs-images/R-777704-1461609590-7750.jpeg.jpg?resize=365%2C365&ssl=1 "Odd Space Oddity")
Just an odd little thing I only vaguely remember writing while listening to David Bowie’s Space Oddity, months ago. You could listen to Space Oddity while reading it if you like – I’ve embedded the video right there. Just a warning/reminder/?, this piece of writing makes almost no sense, but I just feel a strange … More Odd Space Oddity
To you, I write this, first of its kind, long after the need for one has been sunk, as were the ashes of your grand yet kind being, returned to the main elements of this cosmos, the elements in which you immersed yourself in your life, the life of a big man with a big … More To you.
It was a fresh spring day when Mr. Narayan decided to uproot all the flowers in his garden. Anita had been sitting by her window, drinking her morning cup of coffee when she saw Mr. Narayan walk out the front door and into his vibrant, flower-filled garden, in the house across from hers. She was … More Mrs. Narayan’s Flowers (short story)
“Heading home?” I asked as she sat next to her bag, her flowy skirt spread out on the wooden floor. “Yeah!” she smiled brightly, and her dark eyes twinkled, telling me exactly how much she was looking forward to going home. I remember her telling me that she’d moved in with her boyfriend yesterday, after … More Caught (short story)
The ability to create is by far the most beautiful, intense, and terrifying thing one can bear, and when one feels the urge for the very same, it is like fire; burning to the touch, and most of all: all consuming, taking in everything you could possibly offer it, whether you do so by choice, … More Creativity: an affliction.
In a book I’m reading, I came across a string of seven words, knotted together like clay beads on twisted brown thread: to define something is to destroy it and I felt each bead under the skin of my fingers, travelling the meaning of everything they meant, only to settle them onto my neck in … More is
Arshia 