At times, I breathe ice
cold smoke pillows out with each exhale, no fire can melt this breath of lone ice.
At times, I breathe fire
gray smoke escapes my nostrils,
I exhale truth, a truth of liquid flames
—a windstorm of longing to belong.
At times, I breathe ice
cold smoke pillows out with each exhale, no fire can melt this breath of lone ice.
At times, I breathe fire
gray smoke escapes my nostrils,
I exhale truth, a truth of liquid flames
—a windstorm of longing to belong.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
It’s 4:15PM and I’m desperately attempting to exit the city to make a Zumba class at 5:30. I am parched beyond parched, but still avoiding
Guest Blog Posted by: E. Brackin Picky. Finicky. Eats like a bird. These were words I would often hear about my eating habits while growing
In the last two weeks, Neil and I went to two Latin Restuarants: Guarapo’s and Rosa Mexicano’s. Both had a decent reputation for their food