How I met my grandfather

Lately, my maternal grandfather - Mr. Clarence Motha - has started to bear a slight resemblance to Spotted Owlets. Especially, the curving slope on his cranium. These days, it looks smooth and swollen, like the skull of an elderly owlet. My grandfather is 91 years old. His health has been deteriorating of late. He has... Continue Reading →

Back to the future: A summer of spotting owls

Summer, you were a foe, a smoked piece of flesh of a lover and a fiend, with a fetish for freckles, in tow Mark Twain and Ernest Hemingway¬†made sure¬†I could not romanticize summers while growing up. So vividly beautiful were their descriptions of the crisp summer wind and so deliriously scrumptious their longing to chew... Continue Reading →

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