Zee Scribbles

It's a dark, gloomy day. The sky is covered with massive grey clouds, and it's pouring. People are running past me, some with umbrellas, some covering their heads with anything from hoodies to plastic bags. But I sit under a barren tree, drenched in rain. I love the rain; it makes my heart sing. Rainy days like this one are the best days for writing my emotions, for bringing out the poet in me. There is an inexplicable magic to such days that makes me whimsical and expressive, yet with a touch of melancholy. And when it rains, some supernatural power forces me to go wild with reckless abandon, not caring about getting my clothes or hair wet or catching a cold.  So when it rains and others stay indoors in the warmth of their homes, I venture outside. I’m sitting on the east side of Regent’s Park, outside a tall graceful building. It is the middle of March, and it is chilly and windy. I can hear the pitter-patter of rain as it falls from the barren branches of the tree. I could ...

“I want to get closer to the stars, Amamoh,” I said while gently running my fingers along the sole of his foot. It was early in January. Amomah and I were out in Iceland for the weekend. He liked surprising me. He would come up with the most unexpected and astonishing ideas after rejecting every little thing I suggested.   He wanted to make this Saturday very special for me.  He chose a place he knew I would love. A remote island some distance from Reykjavik, covered in a blanket of snow, with a lake coated in a sheet of ice thick enough to skate on, and glorious peaks of volcanic mountains and towering glaciers.  I was still in disbelief. This was his way of expressing his love. This was Amamoh, my own Amamoh. I was excited. I wanted to go sledding on a snowy hill and pretend to knock myself out so he could carry me in his arms, bring me back to our glass cabin, and place me in front of the fireplace only to then realize I was pretending. I wanted to go snowbo...