I’ve been published in this online magazine before; another piece of quirky flash. Yesterday’s publication is entitled She Does Not Know
These are stories written in a rush of mood. And afterwards I don’t try to find a logic or purpose behind them. Don’t know how good they are (or bad), but when they grab me, I have to pick up the nearest thing at hand, even if it’s a paper napkin and an eyebrow pencil! Much like my experience when I write poetry. Sometimes, though, I am totally helpless and there’s not a thing at hand to lay the words down, or I am in a situation where writing is impossible. So the words chase up and down in my head and then drown, settle into a sediment below, get added to the coral reef… I like to believe that later on, days-months-years, unconsciously or from memory, some do get resurrected. Perhaps have already been resurrected. Or will be at some other time. Except that time is always borrowed… at a premium. But hope is a nice thing to have.
Returning to She Doesn’t Know, I wonder what women think of this story. I’d really like to know.
