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Sisters are amazing creatures. They are fodder for writing. They annoy, please, trouble and save and teach you things along the way. We have screaming matches when we are together but when either of us is not at home, the other one doesn’t really know what to do with herself.
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I think I have figured out why self annihilation is so appealing – it is always easier to start afresh, wipe the slate clean, start from scratch. It may take more effort and time, and there are no guarantees that you’ll succeed this time, but it is easier to erase the board than to find…
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Why do I write – this is a dangerous question. It takes you down a never-ending hole of self-pity where you are forced to examine your inflated sense of worth and going into that hole is never a pleasant experience.
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An old man sat at a desk, his head buried into his chest, eyes closed and arms crossed across a bloated tummy. His legs were crossed too. Lips pouted in concentration, reading glasses held precariously on the nose, soft snores could be heard coming from his being. His clothes were rumpled, mismatched and faded. The…
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She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel securely around herself. Before exiting the bathroom, she rechecked that all the curtains were tightly drawn. Leaving the bathroom door ajar to light the otherwise dim room, she padded across her bedroom and sat on the bed with a sigh. It wasn’t a happy sigh,…
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Three friends. One table filled with glasses and empty plates. Three tired and guilty smiles.
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Belly Bytes post on All About Books inspired me to take this up. Also I had to write a post for today and I couldn’t think of a topic I wanted to write on and this came at the right time. Universe does come to the rescue when you’re desperate enough. Now to the questions:
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tales of Suchita 