Do you remember? I remember. The road to Kishtwar. The grey skies. The smell of petrol. The bumpy road. The voices, foreign language but still clear enough to know we are being discussed. The cold. The large big house down the road from the mosque, tucked in behind the gates. […]
I am standing in the women’s section of the village mosque. Under my socks I can feel the scratchy sawdust chiseled off the window frames still waiting to be installed. Tonight there is no electricity and the mountain is black. Sabbah switches off the lamp before namaaz can start and […]
It is the moving of a mountain in the chest, the falter of the heartbeat a hover in the throat an interrupting static, a frozen darkness. The calling out,the calling out on abandoned roadsat crossroads not marked on the map, the senselessnessof it all. Journeying between peaks,unable to look down […]
I recently wrote an article about the writing process for the UK website, the Writer and Artists. This is the link here: https://www.writersandartists.co.uk/writers/advice/764/a-writers-toolkit/developing-an-idea/
Anna: I thought I understood it, that I could grasp it. But I didn’t, not really. Only the smudgeness of it; the pink-slippered, all-containered, semi-precious eagerness of it. I didn’t realize it would sometimes be more than whole, that the wholeness was a rather luxurious idea. Because it’s the halves that […]
I am standing on a rolled up carpet wrapped in a towel leaning against the glass as I eat a piece of hot chocolate brownie. Pool water is dripping on the floor. It’s the perfect mix of moist and chewy.Drip. Drip.Drip.Outside the day is ending. The birds are screeching. Car […]
There’s a traffic light just before you take the corner into my area. As you pass the traffic light, the road suddenly dips and if the sun is setting you get a special kind of light that hits all the houses that suddenly come into view. Usually the sky is […]
Such a great shot. (Awaara, 1951)
This is summer in Durban. A never ending sun; early mornings, late nights, the sun a liquid line always on the horizon. Great bunches of rose-tinged litchis at every intersection, hunks of watermelon in hands and meat burnt black on the braai. Cape Salmon: 79.99 The hottest Christmas day we’d […]
