Category Archives: Favourites


The city looms large and monstrous before me. With hundreds and thousands of windows for eyes, buildings stretch upwards towards the clouds in the sky, grasping unsuccessfully for a place among the stars. Frustrated, they vent their anger on people that walk the streets and those that reside within them, denying them sunlight and wind, and occasionally water in their taps. The 12-storied one before me, with anger in its bricks, eyed me suspiciously. I’d been thinking of killing past lovers, of plunging knives into their backs and twisting them around, boring into bone. Afraid that the building might have read my murderous thoughts, letter by letter, I shifted uncomfortably on the ledge, from side to side, from foot to foot, turning my eye upwards to search for eagles and other high achievers. It didn’t work.
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The Street

There were whispers on the street that evening: whispers that floated from lips on faces that betrayed a great deal of need. Whispers of need; whispers that, as the evening progressed, would become cries of anguish and hunger and later pain. Some would be silenced by relief, if they could afford it. Others would remain till sleep or death silenced them. There were whispers on the street that evening, but no one was there to hear them.
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For Sale

I take this blue and white Reynolds pen out of my shirt pocket to write down the name of a shop, while simultaneously listening to my boss on the mobile phone that’s held tentatively between my ear and my shoulder. I hear her voice, loud and clear. A little too loud, perhaps. She is never not-angry.

Walking from one shop to the next, I look up at stark signboards reflecting angry glares from above. Fashionably dressed picture-perfect mannequins in windows seem to smile at me encouragingly. I am averse to well moulded plastic. Too contrived. I walk on, glancing often at the name written on my notepad, and at the signboards above.
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You’re lying down on a cold, hard and rude rooftop of an aborted building that will probably never see completion, staring at the stars and wondering why they seem to be shining so bright tonight, and why they don’t shine on you favourably. You sigh a deep sigh and resignation reigns you in and relaxes you; and then you ask yourself – Why? Why does it matter? Does it matter? Does anything matter?
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The Awakening

He could hear the sounds of his footsteps follow him down the corridor, down the steps, through the lobby door, and into the street. He heard them as he walked down the street, whose name he knew, but had forgotten, chosen to forget.

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