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I was brainstorming for the letter J with Claude and it came up with an idea that joy may have big meaning in everyday life but it doesn’t work particularly well in fiction.
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It can be so annoying when in the middle of your work day, where a million things are happening, you’re mentally planning for a trip and you’re 20% checked out of the system because it’s a Friday, you also have to pause and allow yourself to throw a tantrum.
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Once upon a time when I didn’t know what time meant, I arrived on mother Earth as a young sapling. Young could mean many things so let me clarify: I was a seed inside a sealed incubation chamber. I was lab made with the hope that if the mothership didn’t survive, I would. And I…
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A man sits on a chair. He is curiously dressed. He’s wearing a golden coloured dhoti. His chest is bare, pale in a way like it doesn’t see much sunlight. His arms are dark, as dark as the earth after rain. His left hand is raised. It’s clutching a sponge with white paint on it.…
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With the sky above mewatching over my maiden flightWith the sun and the cloudsplaying hide and seek with meWith the wisdom of the windsflowing withing my boneslet me fly, fly high in the sky.
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Loss is a sticky thing. You will not think about it for years and years and then one random question will ignite that yearning again.
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I love when it rains. I live in a small house with five brothers and I am the youngest. They love me, they will do anything for me, but they will not share their space with me. Oh no! Since I am the youngest, nothing in this house is mine. Everything belongs to somebody else:…
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tales of Suchita 