64    

I’m not one of those 65-year-old types who type on their keyboard with one finger. You know, searching for keys with their fingers half suspended in the air, mouths half open, mumbling something under their breath. No, I type …

  46    

I don’t recall my first time. And it breaks my heart. I want to recall the screaming and screeching and the sudden feeling of leaving the ground, of floating and soaring into another universe. Maybe I had closed my …

  161    

I hated church. It was always crammed. The pew so hard against the ass, my feet could never touch the floor and the service was always long and windy and the music droned on like a broken life support …

  61    

I stalked her for many months last year. She remained an eel, an illusion, a mirage. She gave me three dates which she ended up cancelling, with apologies. Late last year she ghosted me (yeah, I was a bit …

  54    

Her earlier childhood memories.

Her mother’s boyfriend touching her breast. A stinky, scary man with hands the size of a tree’s roots. Her mother walking into the room and whacking him over the head with a pan or something …

  71    

Yeah, yes, it’s me again. EDDY ASHIOYA. Biko is away, in shags somewhere, fussing over his grass or pigeons. Old age, things. Anyway, I’m holding forte here. I haven’t forgotten the directions to this place, even if the rain …