Words are like textures. Every time we head out, we see light, we see the blue sky, we see trees, we see signs,many images many words, signboards a whole load of them, in varieties, just like cutting up shapes and putting them together in a line like a nice set of teeth, but we may not like glueing them in unison. We get lost, and we see people get ( Read more... )

Black space fades out. Desree sits on a couch with her back facing us. She is watching everyone within her vision and people slowly starts crawling up to each other and throw books on the floor from bookshelves. They start to tear up pages in books, crawls on the library tables and make out. Suddenly it changes into a different world ( Read more... )

I play with the toys from my childhood. They are at the exact positions where grandma sits every time she nags at grandpa. Her voice still as fresh as the vapour from my hot cocoa, always rising subtly as if the toys and the vapour are lining up, making a form out of her altogether in different discussions of their own and making a new bondage ( Read more... )