Each time it comes, I run, filled with curiosity and glee, pick up the strangely light box; hopes not quite shattered.
It is a box. It has arrived at my doorstep. It has to have something I will need.
And.
Each time. I open it, there lies space upon space of nothingness,
Just air.
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.
Today I saw with my two eyes, what privilege sounds like, Like cannot see past my nose, like can’t have empathy, like can’t see the
Transformed by the sun’s rays peppermint essential oil dance piano love cuddled Transformed by movement truth diving in to the new color hair beauty
1. Him: “What’s this?” Me: “A Poem” Him: “But it doesn’t rhyme.” 2. “When I eat something, my shirt eats it too!” 3. Me: “What’s