The ocean breathes, her surface rising and falling with rhythmic ease. The waves are her pulse and only just an echo of the souls that lay in her brine. Her skin glistens in nascent rays, an underrated facade for the utopia beneath.
Read More
As the nascent rays of the rising sun highlight the edge of my magazine page, as I near the end of a rather interesting article about politics and look up at the morning mist clear underneath the flickering halogen lights.
Don’t let the exterior of the double glazed automatic glass doors fool you, for once they slide open, what lies in front is nothing short of a snake pit.
It's like walking into a time capsule, years of memories compressed into what appears to be only a simple bedroom. The fatigued wooden floorboards tremble underfoot as I walk into the room. Its rectangular shape contained only a dresser, a cupboard a bed and a window.
My grandfather is a septuagenarian veteran swimming in the tidewater of his seventh decade, undefeated by the betrayal of time. His face is chisselled and the creases under his eyes grow in number by the day.