I sit down to write

I sit down to write. I am never really sure whether I weave a story or whether it is the story that weaves me. It is creative some days but frustrating in other ways Some frustrations are just frustrations of the art but some are peculiar to my heart. Because real stories come from heart’s […]


When she died, I thought I had an ocean in my eyes an ocean that would never dry up no matter how many salty tears they spill Years passed. The wound sealed. Somehow I lived. Yesterday I cried again I remembered the ocean in my eyes and tasted a tear. Suprised. It was no more […]