Short Stories
Glimpse
Glimpse She sat on the bench facing the water. It was cold, slightly windy. Yet she loved facing the water, being near the water. ‘I love seeing the horizon. The water moves. So do the clouds. But the sand—oh, I love the feel of the sand on my bare feet.’ She could...
Poetry
Maria
MariaI am Maria, she says. My name is Maria. I am called Maria,She declares, as her light-fading eyes look into my silent ones.The sun is about to set.Then night will fall, and she will insist:It’s the weather because darkness falls quicker these days.I see her as she...