A voice smooth and uncoiling singing to Abdulhalim, crackling when it tried to get the high notes. Like wood in a fireplace lit on a silvery blue snowy evening on the only day of the year that the country snowed. Singing waves of crumbling notes, soothing songs of white joyful lies. Songs of motherhood. LikeContinue reading “Like Wood in a Fireplace”
A collection of my writings. A spool of thoughts undone.
Beisan's Burble 