There are days, aren’t there, when you feel as if the entire universe is imploding inside of you. They say our bones have composition of the stars, so indeed the universe does exist inside of us. We are all made of stardust. And this very stardust begins to ache from every corner for reasons we…
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I’ve always thought of bubble baths as a metaphor for sauntering around, to have the short time in betweens for day dreaming. The bubbles dispersing into the air, the smell of shampoo, but more importantly, the time at hand. These bubble bath moments include anything from saving the world as the next Wonder Woman to…
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Shine! shine!! shine!!! I screamed at the night sky, my voice almost tearing apart, my lungs about to burst into flames from a burning heart. But of course the sun wasn’t going to shine unless it was time.
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These lines make me nervous. I love lines otherwise, lines that run through pages, lines that unmask people, lines that make up stories, lines that can be spoken, lines with words on them. But this is a queue. And I’m not fond of lines that are made up of people. It makes me anxious, like…
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What are we? Such happy beings over our skins, smiles everywhere. Moving our heads left and right to prove nothing’s wrong. What are we? In the inside, lines of cracks drawn from left to right. What are we?
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The Wordcastle 