My mother knows nothing

more than I do but she carries it better.

If she were a metaphor I could turn into her.

The waiting room is a collage of almosts: almost asleep, almost calm, almost able to explain.

“Words are like heartbeats: sooner or later, we will run out.”

“I massage my face every day and night to preserve a presentation”

"We talk too many languages at home, one louder than the other. It's impossible to trap a jugnu in a jar"