Sparks fly across the room ricocheting words jumping from my mouth   to his and back. Each thought shared, more intimate, more eager than the last.   Then out of their depth, his eyes come into focus. He stares into mine.

Fabricated Flowers (7)

I recall (…) riding my bike to my Gran’s hotel, crossing the Place des Vosges, walking through the gates into the hotel’s courtyard, (…) She is standing right outside the wrought iron fence and seems engaged in a heated conversation. She moves to walk away as I step closer. 

About Time

“Short as life may be, you always need to breathe. It is the present that counts, the moments you live. So I stop and contemplate until I feel satiated enough with where, and who I am right now. (…) After that pause, I feel right on time, right where I am supposed to be.”

Tapping Shadows

“The storm is performing an ever-evolving rendering, A natural lullaby that entices me Away from a land of dreams. Immovably, ever so gently, I break free from slumber”