"What comes to mind when I say, moon scraped knuckles and knocking knees?" Mats shook his head. "Nothing off the bat. Is it the name of a song, a poem, a movie?" "It's a name I'm thinking of giving my blog." "You have a blog?" "Not yet but I'm thinking of creating one on WordPress." …
Taahira’s Story
People stare at me because of the tribal marks on my face. I wish I never had them. I wish I knew what I looked like without them. Before I left Nigeria, I asked my mother about them. She said that she and my father were merely upholding traditional practices. I wished that I was …
Tamika’s Story
Photo by Zack Jarosz from Pexels I was turning tricks since I was 15. My father was in prison for manslaughter and my mother was a coke head. I didn't have any siblings. I was the only child. I thought of dropping out of school and finding a job so I could save up enough …
Paradise
They met in Paradise Island. She had taken a spontaneous trip to the island. It was to get away for a while. She had just broken up with Lemarr, the treacherous cur. He two-timed her with her best friend. She saw them one morning outside of his building, holding hands and kissing. Not wanting to …
Notes to Women 