Writer. 

I remember being told when I was very small by my grandmother that we are all “good at something”, that we are all given a ‘gift’. Sometimes it exposes itself in the most unusual of ways and sometimes it hides, for risk of shame, for state of modesty. Excited by the idea of such a … Continue reading Writer. 

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Eyes.

I get out of the car and they're on me in seconds, beady and blue.  They scan up and down, back up again.  Wide, eager, nervous. Blinking rapidly now.  Confusion seems to follow.  Still fat, and yet, at ease? I feel them find the regrowth of my hair, the tufts of natural mousey hair sprouting … Continue reading Eyes.