Storeadtime Series

The Balcony of Frozen Tears EP. 2

“I remember playing outside my house with my very good friend. It was afternoon and the clouds which shielded the hot rays of the sun were a dull ash. I knew that the rains anytime now would come. We were playing in a sand box with a diameter of about a small pond in the scanty playground beside the dining window. There were swings and slides that had a reddish brown colour on the insides and around. We were very little children of a few years old. We didn’t mind the dirt just as we didn’t mind swallowing a few pebbles and licking the sweet ruddy sand when we thought no one was looking. Our mothers were a good distance away sprawled out in a soccer mum fashion that only mothers who had given birth to children managed to pull off. It was a semi-sitting semi-lying position that m...

The Balcony of Frozen Tears EP. 1

Dear Diary, 1st December, 1995 So it has been like what five years that I penned this down? Five since I saw your smile. That one that reached your eyes. The one that was practically etched, like paper mash, on your ever happy face. No matter your mood. Dear Tasie, Mama removed your bedsheets from your room today. She did it before your memorial service. So it won’t get dust, she said. After five harmattans. I didn’t think there was anything but dust on those sheets. But I didn’t think she’d have wanted to hear that though. It’s funny she said it finally. I didn’t want to be the one to remove it. Or anything of yours for that matter. You remember it right? The one that was patterns and square shapes and that ridiculous cobalt blue that you loved on every...

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