One of the stories mama told me started like this: she and khalammi had taken the car out for the first time, khalammi a nervous driver behind the wheel, mama riding shotgun. At one point, the car grazed another man’s car, and immediately stalled. A crowd gathered while the girls sat petrified with horror, and… Continue reading Of Khalammi
Some thoughts, a year on. The primary way I seem to have dealt with things is that I have locked almost all the memories of my mother in a tight strongbox inside my chest – to open it is to release so many thoughts of her, all of which cause me so much pain. It… Continue reading More on Grief
I saw a pink van today. After so long. And I thought of you. You would’ve been 18 by now. And I would give all the pink vans in the world just to be with you again. 12-12-07 . Rest in Peace.