Cherrypicked stories

Various scribbled danced about the page. They were useless. No point to them, like the many before, them. I scrupled up the paper into a wrinkled ball and threw it onto the seat opposite me. _______________________________________________________________________ I looked at her. Sleeping. She looked beautiful when she was sleeping. Even more beautiful than normal. If that was possible. And she was mine. At last. Finally. Deborah. ______________________________________________________________________ "Leoni! Get down from there. You're making a fool of your self. NOW! I said sternly, as my daughter leaped and jumped about on the already packed carriage. Why was she playing up now? It was only a couple of minutes left till we had to get off. _____________________________________________________________________ A young girl started scream. I kneeled up on my seat and turned round to look. The young girl was about 6. Her mother was the mother of 5. Poor woman. The whole carriage was looking. The mother's weary, tired eyes looked around. I tried to look sympathetic, but obviously failed as she turned away and began hissing to her children. Is that what motherhood's like? Being judged, looked down upon, and tired? Lonely? Agitated? Frustrated?

As you breathe I almost hear you. When you sigh It's audible too. When your pulse throbs steadily As you sleep, So it becomes me. I see your arms Thrown wide, Your scent unconfined

"Have you no boots on?" he asks. "Oh, of course I have," she says, "They're shiny, black and high-heeled, And cover most of my legs."

THE FRIDGE. Maiko returns to his apartment with his friend. Her name is Padi. On entering the apartment she notices the fridge right in view as you enter. " Hey, have you guys bought a fridge, she asked, sounding surprised.

poem

She loved the stories of the dark barns with canopies of tobacco leaves hanging in their furthest recesses, as they reminded her of herself curing in the hidden sanctuary of simplicity.

Published in the Guardian Online in August

She had visited every internet site she found interesting at least a dozen times, received a plethora of email from people unknown, peddling everything from paintings to painkillers, and she dabbled on the poetry boards.

I enjoyed especially the way the actresses smoked between takes...