#freewriter

Es domingo, casi medio día, pero parece que la ciudad aún no despierta. Al mirar por la ventana observo la calle sola. No pasan autos, no hay niños en el parque ni pasadores de perros. Sirvo mi café y

I read a story this week that’s been sitting in my head. A man was rich. Very rich. Right after graduation, his wife told him she wanted to work. He said no. His reason? My wife doesn’t need to work. I

So I use to see a bar like one very odd stuff, te first time I went to a bar that s when I was still a teenager. Those days when midnight call was the top of game, so I had a favourite aunty who was so

Hoy recordé a Damián. Y es extraño, no había pensado en él en demasiados años. No recuerdo con exactitud la edad que tendría yo cuando nos conocimos, pero debía de tener 7 u 8 años. Damián llegó herido

Let's briefly talk about my grandparents house in the village, (Mr. Uman's abode). The road to my grandfather’s village always ended at the same place. Its walls were made of mud and memory. The zinc roof

Twas 9th September 2012 same has this day and on that faithful day something that happened is still happening and the happening is inevitable. So that morning I was covered with blood and I didn't know

To be very honest with you, this topic is worth writing about. I recently travelled from my state to start a new life in another state, but this was as a result of my Nysc,which had issues though I'll

Las musas están muertas Cuando imaginamos la inspiración, muchas veces llega a nuestra mente la imagen de la musa ligera y veloz que se posa en el oído para susurrarnos conceptos, modificar nuestro pensar