The lie dissolves
on an ordinary Tuesday –
where you wake
and the numbers
no longer add up.
18 and 19 – trial runs,
extensions of childhood.
But 20?
The lie dissolves
on an ordinary Tuesday –
where you wake
and the numbers
no longer add up.
18 and 19 – trial runs,
extensions of childhood.
But 20?
By Kiran Nayager | Edited by Geoffrey Feng The distant crashing of the waves played in the back of my mind, which was fixated on the scarlet anemone waving its tentacles to the rhythm of the rockpool. My finger poked through the surface of the water, floating playfully close to