Few men could stand the fire in her stare. She was hesitant, but whatever started that flame could not die. But she was like the unruly waves of the ocean that call out to an audacious sailor. She gave herself, then she withheld. She gave, then she retracted.
Precisely two years ago the man she loved had walked out that door – she screwed her eyes on it and felt nothing – days later she had received a call
“Hello, report on Mr. Dubois?”
“Yes” she squealed
“Today we located his body on the shores of Fonte-Ambre” Continue reading “Pearled Embers”
This is the only wedding picture I have on my phone. I was looking at it today and wondering why I like it, why I kept it. At first I thought it’s because I saw a yearning in the woman’s eyes, like she really enjoys the man and; from a deep, true place, she wants to be with him. Then I realized that it’s more because she looks stately. She looks like a woman who can take care of herself, yet she chooses to be with him. I want to be chosen, desired. Not sometching that is sought for because in a fundamental way, it is thought to be needed. Something that has to be had anyway.
One reason people fear the feminist movement Continue reading “The One Wedding Picture On My Phone”
The woman shuffled to the left, she shuffled to the right and then to the left again. A neighbour tapped her, they conversed, then she finally decided to let her handbag slip off her wrist and she entered the isle on her right. The neighbour was the last person sitting on that end of the bench. L threw back his head. He wondered on how they make you yearn and yearn for the end of such long services. Suddenly, he noticed that the benches on his left were emptying. “Wow we’re finally leaving” he thought. He imagined that the bride and groom were ahead, leading the way out. Then the benches in front of him began to fill up again, strangely, the people began to reappear. Continue reading “Wedding Part One”