Creative Non-Fiction

Where Longing Lives

I am not homeless in the literal sense and I don’t have the language to describe the home for which I feel intense longing. Terrene, waves, raindrops, bark, foundation, walls, roof, pen strokes on a page, flick of the tongue, tightening of lips, closure of the vocal chords, intimacy, trust, embrace, connection.

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Thoughts on Community

I think of all the times as a child my mother has sent me over to the neighbour’s with a bag of garlic, when they asked for just a clove. These acts of care, mercy, and consideration have been happening under society’s collective radar.

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