Touch
iwairimu
It was a strange feeling. He’d long grown accustomed to neither feeling it, nor recognizing or acknowledging its existence. It was striking and unexpected. Like when you swallow a syrup…
iwairimu
Living in Full Colour
The beginning: living in darkness
Together, We Can Survive
Can you open your closed fist?
Reminders for when you feel unworthy of joy
When joy asks for a home on your face
Hu-mood-ity
On surviving an eczema flare-up on a humid day.
Meta
Thinking about a thought
Harbinger
The day her water broke was the same day her heart shattered into shards
What It’s Like to Be a Flightless Bird
The ridges in my back twist and knot into each other