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Chips and CakeBy Aekta Khubchandani QuailBellMagazine.com She would sit in that cold corner of the kitchen during days of their school times. She escaped afternoon naps. She remembered her childhood as the days she spent stuffing the walls of her mouth, eating her emotions out with chips and chips and more chips. She imagined peeled potatoes dancing, being sliced to jump in a pool of hot oil. Crispy, salt flavored, oil glazed potato chips. Its smell and taste took her dreams to potato farms and chip factories. She would lay there with pillows of potatoes for long hours. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Archangel DivaShe is a diva
whose soul illuminates the universe with the fury of a trillion suns, whose light opens flowers and nourishes the earth. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Robo-trippingYou told him you couldn’t do it anymore in a room that looked like a still life painting You said that maybe you had been mishandled too many times Like a package is mishandled The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
No Lott, meshe was like holding a handful of salt on a windy day but more crazy than ophelia and so small The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
My RivalBy DS Maolalai QuailBellMagazine.com I bumped into him hanging around a tax protest at 3 in the afternoon outside the dail. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
NameWhen I was at university, we all huddled together in creative writing workshops. |