Kirstie Sivapalan
The day was still. She felt like time, had frozen, the moment it happened. Nothing mattered anymore; her heart, her blood, her breath would be a constant effort hereon in. Life had stopped, and she with it. She could walk around that Moment and examine it from all its angles – the bed, the face… Continue reading One. Two
I have such an urge to write at the moment. The words are all clamouring for their audience and different ones want different platforms too. Some want to crawl out of the end of my pen and seep into my notebook, some want to fly out and take nest in its pages. Some are more… Continue reading Stories to tell
Writing and M.E. 