The world ended at dusk on a Sunday. A mournful dusty red sun slowly dying behind a cold silver barbed wire fence. The child fractured into two at twilight. A free barefooted spirit plays on a farm as his clenched jawed mirror splinters. The fabric that is love ruined in summer. A slender, muted coloured,Continue reading “End Of The World (Boarding School)”
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“I carry the bars within me.” ― Franz Kafka It is a very peculiar thing, how some seemingly inconsequential memories will not fade with time. Simply refusing to let go of the grip on your mind long after the context for their existence had faded into the gray mist of forgetfulness. Holding on for dearContinue reading “The Cot”
At the rise.
Where should one start a story? Start, because it’s neither the beginning nor the end but simply the parting of the curtains and story, since we know there are as many truths in the play of life as there are actors on its stage. Let us not even contemplate the views of the audience inContinue reading “At the rise.”