Hellen.

She had a special name. To him, everything about her was special. The way she closed her eyes every time she tasted something for the first time. The way she arranged her things on the bed before placing them, one by one, into her handbag. The way she said goodbye. It was as if she…

Purgatory. 

His knees trembled as he descended the steps from his apartment. He had accepted it, this place. This place and all it came with. The pasts and presents that co-existed. The scents that painted his dreams, and the new patterns that took hold of his being. Work. Use. Sleep. Dream. Work … The line between…

Until the end starts …

Once upon a time, people began stories like this. And then, in a different time, fireplaces became microwaves, and the days of our lives became twenty-four hours long. Sleep became a luxury. Communal meals were no longer priorities. Light was artificial, and the new generation saw much more, but understood considerably less. Probably in the…

Questions. 

Scented skin. Stained by cigarettes. Damaged eyes. The effects of looking too much into the past. No answers there. She made a different choice. She chose to look sideways. On buses, and trains and planes. In her bed. To the walls. They have ears. They sympathized with her. Every night, listening to broken sobs or…

Silencer aimed at society

The dreams returned to him. Tossing and turning became tumbling down a hill. He arose from the dream that belonged to that night, still tossing and turning, still pretending to be asleep. Trying to sleep. He was a rolling stone, gathering very little in terms of stability. His roots were superficial. They held on to…

Where love once lived

“Have you ever noticed how everything becomes more interesting at dusk?” “W-what are you talking about?” she asked in disbelief, still heaving. She had been baited. His strangeness called her out of her trance. They both moved into his mind. She did her best to peer into his thoughts, saving herself from her own. She…

What it’s like to be a memory

Hallucinations. Images of colourless doves cloud my mind. They cast shadows all around me. Like an epiphany, they populate the area around my mind, illuminating the memory of sin like a halo. O what it feels like to be a memory. To be the atomic substance of emptiness, the material element of loneliness, the palpable…

Longing. 

I had woken up, dreading the realities that would be synonymous to the new way the sun shone. I had sought a good night’s sleep for many weeks – sixteen, sixty or six hundred. I can’t tell you how many exactly. But it seems as though I lost the ability to rest. And now I…