“ROOMINGHOUSE, WINTER” BY MARGARET ATWOOD Catprints, dogprints, marksof ancient childrenhave made the paths we followto the vestibule, piledwith overshoes, ownerless lettersa wooden sled.The threadbare treadson the stairs. The trailsworn by alien feetin time through the forest snowdriftsof the corridor to this remnant, thisdiscarded doorWhat disturbs me in the bathroomis the unclaimed toothbrush.In the room itself,… Continue reading a mighty mini post:
Author: mightymetis
What’s the difference, anyway!
We all have the hasty mornings with the awkward fold in our hair, slightly at the back and off-centre of our head, that sometimes we manage to straighten; and others we remember only after passing the entire parent teacher school community in our sunglasses when it’s Jan. 2nd and it’s clearly overcast. We all have… Continue reading What’s the difference, anyway!
No Skin in the Pain
If Beirut is this severed, I’m fretful about what it would be like to walk in the streets of Damascus again. Beirut with it’s crooked charm, feels as intimate as a cul-de-sac and as experiential as a metropole. Beirut tempts those with no skin in the pain with it’s little fables of familiarity. For it’s… Continue reading No Skin in the Pain
a mighty mini post:
Its always a good time to revisit 1984: 'If you mean confessing,' she said, 'we shall do that, right enough. Everybody always confesses. You can't help it. They torture you.' 'I don't mean confessing. Confession is not betrayal. What you say or do doesn't matter: only feelings matter. If they could make me stop loving… Continue reading a mighty mini post:
A Journalist so Truthful – They had to Kill her
It's been 42 days since Shireen Abu Akleh's assassination. On May 11th 2022 in occupied Jenin; as cameras rolled and her colleagues were nearby, Israeli occupation forces shot Shireen dead in plain sight as she stood by a tree. Deliberate. Immediate. Permanent. The the kind of grief that many of us are experiencing having never… Continue reading A Journalist so Truthful – They had to Kill her
A List that Started from a Speck of Dust
I am finding that being woman in my 40s a peculiar and rather obtuse and dysmorphic endeavor. I would say that its like standing in the middle of a very noisy, flashing room, as I tower over a tiny, little hole in the floor that reveals an abyss of nothing just under the ground we… Continue reading A List that Started from a Speck of Dust
a mighty mini post:
Fiction as Fact as Fiction “Reality provides us with facts so romantic that imagination itself could add nothing to them.” —Jules Verne For now - https://nautil.us/blog/most-of-the-mind-cant-tell-fact-from-fiction
In Tatters (Like Beirut)
There is a state of elevator-feeling-in-the-pit-of-the-stomach-hyper-anxiety that immediately fills my insides when I get a message from someone asking me: if someone I love in some God forsaken place I call home (and I call many places home these days) is OK. It is so instant because my nervous system has practiced delivering this message… Continue reading In Tatters (Like Beirut)
maia malas 