The Grocery Bag: A Granddaughter Remembers

The Grocery Bag: A Granddaughter Remembers

The rickety wooden gate opened slightly with the wind, like the consciousness of a half-asleep child. Daylight streamed through  almond leaves and dappled the broken pieces of gray sidewalk. There was the soft dripping of the monsoon’s last raindrops – a...
Cut To Fly

Cut To Fly

Black My fingers weave through the mess of my hair, smoothening the strands and arguing with the tangles. Poking against the knots until slowly and silently, they come undone. Like an ancient scroll finally discovered, my braid unravels and a curtain of ebony cascades...