Dear Dumbili (a compressed and sketchy version of a longer work written last year),

Dear son My son. Future son. You might happen. Or not. I fear—the idea of bringing you into this dismal world where you are not your authentic self, a world where you are nuances of that self. And, because of that, slowly, our insides die every day. You might be from my nucleus. Or not. …

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PUBLIC (?) NOTICE: Hi guys, so I've been on a hiatus (still am). Soon enough, I'll become consistent here. I've been working on stories, many stories. You know that this is just a personal blog for mundane experiences and my actual works don't appear here? So, chill. Okay? I'll try my best to give you …

The Right To Be.

Everyone has a right to be, really. Let us do better.

My Feminism: Growth.

Growing.

My Elder Brother’s Laptop Bag.

My brother, [censored], and I, were intertwined by a laptop bag.