FatimaA Forster Underneath Your ArmThe day had grown old and weary no? Sitting on the broken bench, palms scraped instead of a cracked skull.Nov 15, 2023Nov 15, 2023
FatimaMy Aunt, Sitara — A Short StoryOne of my aunts is named after the stars — she’s called Sitara. I don’t have any specific memory with her as a kid, not even the time, as…Apr 27, 2023Apr 27, 2023
FatimaSo Violently Bleak — An ExcerptThe emptiness wasn’t around me, because commotion was present everyday, chitter-chatter here and there, whispers and gossips, the stealing…Apr 7, 2023Apr 7, 2023
FatimaA Picture Of You In My Journal | Letter to a FriendI’ve consolidated your image in my mind to the point it saddens me it’s only an image. I don’t remember the last time comfort touched me…Mar 20, 2023Mar 20, 2023
FatimaPast the Commotion | A Short ProsePast the commotion, I had sought my seat, away from the crowd, under a tree. A tick of a clock or Beethoven’s final symphony, sky turning…Mar 19, 2023Mar 19, 2023