The Good Life

“He’s rich and old,” I tell my friend Gina.

“You mean rich but old?” She asks from the carpet where she’s seated between my knees. I’m helping her undo her braids. She’s in this team natural group where they occasionally meet in a garden to drink rosé and talk about children and men,

Suleiman’s Goat

I wake up very early on Sabbath. It’s quiet and drizzling lightly outside. Perfect morning; the phone isn’t ringing yet, the people on Whatsapp Groups who have an opinion on everything haven’t woken up yet,

Black Prince

They met in church. He saw her over numerous heads in the pews, under the high elaborate ceilings of the church and over the chiming chorus of the choir. The year was 2000. He was only 25.

A Prisoner Of Selves

I never allow emails to summon me. I summon them instead. I see them when I’m good and ready to see them, not when they want to be seen. So with no email notification on my phone,