Did i tell you of the Christmas I wiped the floor clean with my tongue for love? Begging it to stay? Or the months after when i rang Faiza every night cussing the doctors for not helping. I swore i had broken my neck, must’ve been why i couldn’t see the sun like everyone else. […]
Writing, like swimming, is a practice-oriented pursuit. It is a little difficult to stay afloat, to thoroughly enjoy the tenacity required at the beginning, but if one stays the path, and keeps at it, it does get better.