Freedom
The sky always tells a story.
Wretched missile birds
‘SHIMB, there was a gun firing mishap and the route to our galaxy has been engraved on the rice fields this morning. Would you come check it out before the villagers can find out?’
A different life
The year was 2007. I was going through intense grief from the loss of both my grandfathers— one to cancer and the other to brain haemorrhage. I was mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted.
Maps guide us
The roofs slant and the gates creek. Terracotta crumbles and iron bends. Black and white, and red and black.
Thursday
I breathed fire. I revered the sun. I wore my passion in my heart, and swore my life to my art. I danced to the tune of cackling embers.
Inked
The carwash garage roars in the evening sky. the pulled beef patty frizzles in the spattering oil and the ravioli receives a shower of cheese gratings – melting and merging.