Tag Archives: Memories of Her Father
The Pencils Sharpened by My Father
In memoriam of someone you loved who’s no longer alive, translated… My father died too young, too young that he’d not gotten the chance, to take me to school, and I’d not gotten the opportunities, to share with him my … Continue reading
Desert Rose
Remembering her father, translated… My father had a ton of boxes his whole life, his life was collected, inside the Russian dolls. I’d opened it, once, in a long while, feared, that his scent will, become dilute and get lost … Continue reading
Life, the Obstacle Course 