Writer’s Note: This piece reflects the stillness and ache of memory. It's about the kind of love that shapes us even after it ends. It lives inside specific moments, like Sundaymornings, and becomes an enduring part of us. I wrote this with brutal honesty, blending … Continue reading Two Sundays
Tag: writing
Still Living In That House
Writer’s Note This piece is part memory, part feeling, and part search. It is not a linear story. It moves like memory does; fragmented, circular, sometimes clear and sometimes smudged. I wrote this not because I have answers but because I needed space for the … Continue reading Still Living In That House
11 p.m.
“I miss having sex with you,” I confess, My fingers tracing the screen in the hush of a dim room, The clock was nearing 11 p.m. Days had passed like whispers. Before his message finally arrived: He was back in Cape Town, returning from the … Continue reading 11 p.m.
Unfinished Rooms 