there she was, reading a Murakami,
the light arranging itself carefully around her young
shoulders, iced tea sweating, waiting for no one,
expecting no one, no phone, no ring,
just a fragment of consciousness filling the now,
With grandma, there was always a god
who balanced karmic echoes with miracle and punishment,
and spoke to her with a familiarity that came
from decades of negotiation and compromise. After all,
the day grandpa died, who made sure the rains stopped
so the buses could g...
It had been a while or maybe it hadn’t, she tried, once more, the way he had taught her, savouring the moment like a grain of rice still covered in its husk of quiet, feeling its shape and size and taste, letting its gritty voice fill her hungry mind with exhilaration but it w...