The skies speak of the sobered tonight, in a realm where people often forget, they forget what it feels like to be inebriated, about thoughts that keep us up after hours– rolling hills, rural for its length, alternating open pastures and trees; I stare blankly and resume eating the fruit… Read more“A bottle of rosé”
Author: Sanaa
On a bus to boulevard cafe
Some of us on a bus to boulevard cafe aspire, taste the hasty humid rain and feel its hand upon shoulder, so heavy, that we succumb, this hunger to escape, to belong and to wander are all meshed into one– so potent, that everything else seems irrelevant. … Read more“On a bus to boulevard cafe”
Under the lavender sky
The opal waves beat forever against the shore, regardless of circumstances; of wind-driven rain pummeling the terminal with a fury and of clouded destiny, perhaps, in rugged beauty it feels alive, if I am to carry this, then let spirit be my guide, there is much to do under the… Read more“Under the lavender sky”
How to describe a perfect red onion
Cultivars of the onion, it is white fleshed and tinged with red, as though double-edged, offering the world a sweet alternative– I have grown to love its body, for what it is; a portal, a metaphysical speculation that inveigles the human mind with tears as its price. With… Read more“How to describe a perfect red onion”
A reverie of sorts and nothing more
I am a compulsive liar and a saint, below a bed of umber sleep and roses. The lush green fields sleep but roses don’t, I’ve thought about the heavy weight of hunger. I think about the heavy weight of hunger, beyond veins and roots tethering. Barefoot, I walk where… Read more“A reverie of sorts and nothing more”
Women of Algiers in their Apartment
I won’t mention the shadows that speak of war or bones that ache as they are made to do so, nor will I attempt to describe what goes on behind these walls, twilight is a perfect shade of periwinkle blue outside, it uses gestures to communicate; but… Read more“Women of Algiers in their Apartment”