Category: Essays

The patchwork man

There’s a threadbare, patchwork carpet in this motel room reeking of stale cigarettes where I spend my days. I stare at its once lurid details now aged and coated with dust. I’m naked and lying on crumpled sheets next to a girl I picked up at a greasy spoon. The patchwork fascinates me in so…

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Same old, same old

So, Nitin, I see that you’ve deleted your blog again. What possesses you time and again to land on the obsidian shore of madness where the sky is sickly green, and the air is pungent? Actually, don’t answer that, because if you even attempt to, you’ll once again play a discordant chord in your mind…

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