Writing a story

Everytime I write a story, I worry. I worry if I have enough substance. I worry if my characters lack depth. I worry if the dialogue is too thick, too awkward, too artificial. I worry if the plot is not as smooth as I imagined it would be. I worry that there isn't enough pace… Continue reading Writing a story

A story for crying women with red noses

These days, I am always accompanied by a cloud. It's not multicoloured or liberal in its political opinions but it can hold its own in a conversation about more important things like gourmet cuisine or science fiction. It talks of a wolf on the far end of a stony forest, the kind that burns in… Continue reading A story for crying women with red noses

Wolfman on a lonely moor

A wolfman on a lonely moor cries for his lover in the moon down and out, in the pathos of the night he howls the unnerving day goodbye ushers in the fervent nightfall he lives among the gypsies in the folklore, with the bloodsuckers and jinns never satiated, the beast within he longs for the… Continue reading Wolfman on a lonely moor