(Inspired by a photograph by Fred Stein) She stood on Mulberry Street, composed and defiant. Even in her apron and pinafore dress she held herself regally with half a cigarette casually resting between the fingers of her left hand, and a large clutch bag tucked under her right arm. Her messy curls sprang wildly over … Continue reading Meanwhile in Little Italy
Apparently
Apparently my head is always in the clouds, and that I should not speak so loud. Apparently my moods always change, or I am just "too bloody strange". Apparently you are absolutely right, when you say I am not that bright. or that I am easily lead astray, and even walk in a weird way. … Continue reading Apparently
Seed
I was buried deep beneath the clay Not yet aware of the daylight. Curled up and cloistered, feeling the hours pass away while shadows slipped through earthworm tunnels. Gradually I grasped some sense to reach for soil below; gravity - my clarity, all I cared to know. Then it one day occurred to me that … Continue reading Seed
Anyone home?
The metronome ticking away, feigning patience counted each second wasted on starts and stops. Lilah's focus long left the room, replaying Snow White in her head from beginning to end. Her singing teacher, Mister Rogers as she called him, was unfortunately left with the lit vacant house, "Now take a breath, use your diaphragm and … Continue reading Anyone home?
Charity shop shenanigans
Secondhand. There, I said it. The word is almost a slur of its own nowadays. We are meant to call it something less triggering for the sake of a jumpier new generation, I suppose. Sorry Karen, I meant "pre-loved". I felt cheapened more by the modern terminology than I had ever felt by any used … Continue reading Charity shop shenanigans
Disturbed
I made dinner. That was all. That was all it took for the headache to return. Not the kids, not Frankie wrecking my nerves with YouTube shorts blaring. I had no underlying illness as far as I knew. Nothing weird that I could have inherited. Nothing. It just started. The mental traffic was there though. … Continue reading Disturbed
Untitled
What do I do now? Where will I go? Must the sun set on all that I believe I know? Then again, What do I know? I must know some things . . . At least, I used to think so.
I just want to help.
Sometimes, the best thing we can do for someone who's growth and wellbeing we care about is to leave them to their own devices - not to advise, not to supervise, not to intervene, or at worst dictate. Stepping in might seem like a good idea, and it might feel like the right thing to … Continue reading I just want to help.
Where does it end?
At twenty-one degrees Celsius, Máire's blood was still simmering. It did not seem to matter how much or how cold the water, and at that point she must have swallowed an entire well. The fear of drinking too little far outweighed any concern for what might happen as a consequence of drinking too much. And, … Continue reading Where does it end?
Rethinking Pink?
I know, I know - "Another Brick in the Wall" isn't about bricks in a literal sense, and neither will this post be . . . entirely. I do however, want to loosely add my own two cents to some of the deep-cutting messages behind this iconic song (or at least, what I've interpreted), and … Continue reading Rethinking Pink?
Ardent Writing 