Redefining the Greek meze

I’m at a traditional olive farm, lying in the green grass dotted with yellow wildflowers. The sun filters out through the dense foliage of the boughs of the olive trees and their sharp aroma tingles my nose. An almost salty breeze hits my skin as I stare at the pale blue Mediterranean sky, lost in…

Blind threads- an Ekphrasis

No, don’t you try to unravel the inhabitant of my skull. Don’t you try to untangle this mess, this tumult, this brouhaha I call myself. Because I shall always be intertwined, lest live like hanging threads.

The grainy monochromatic photograph

A fading red heart on a Dusty cover page of an Album bound with memories of People holding hands, and of Eyes perhaps happier than Those staring at them, because Sepia tones and tattered corners, Black and white and worn out borders, have eyes that smiled at each other, not Those that smiled at cameras,…