Slipping on Dreams_Renovations_Roommates_A Feeling for Rain
Catalog Guide:
Slipping on Dreams
Once upon a time, in a city where the dreams were as big and glittering as the glass towers scraping the sky, a ball was announced to which the rich and the beautiful would be invited. Cards, stamped in real gold leaf and sprayed with scent, were issued. The chosen few rang their favourite designers and instructed them to cancel all other appointments, until that memorable day in May. In a land far far away, where the dreams were just as big but the chance of achieving them somewhat smaller, Elaro slipped owww.onedoor.ccn her flipflops and walked to work. Tuk-Tuks swerved to dodge the holy cows, meande...
Renovations
As Stella bent down to pick up her glove, a shove from behind almost pitched her headfirst into the soup can display.“Sorry, love, couldn't see where I was pushing the cart,” said a familiar voice. “Are you alright? It’s these darn bifocals. Can’t seem to get the hang of them. Here, let me help you up.”It was Mrs. Jones, the large, shortsighted lady who came to clean Stella's house every week. She reached down and yanked Stella up by the arm with the strength of a stevedore.“Say, did you hear about the old Miller place?”“What?” said Stella, rubbing her arm. She hated to think what would have h...
Roommates
“You can’t be serious…” Ava groaned, scrolling through social media. She just saw the new post from her band teacher on Instagram. It was a picture of the band room with the caption: “Band Practice Tonight!” She hated that her band teacher used Insta to send out news. He was trying way too hard. She shook her head, it was so cringe.Jen, Ava’s roommate, looked up from her book, “What is it now?”Ava sighed, “Band practice got moved up to tonight instead of tomorrow…”Jen shrugged, “And?”Ava shook her head, “You never pay attention, do you? Tonight is my date with Kell.”Jen rolled her eyes, “You’r...
A Feeling for Rain
The fierce midday light accentuated the fissures in the baked earth around our farmhouse, making them look like the collapsed arteries supporting a cadaver’s withered heart.At the rear of the property, Pop was wrestling with our water well’s crank handle, as if he was a deranged organ grinder extracting music by force from some obstinate contraption.Inside the kitchen, I could hear the mournful tune of the aluminium bucket as it clunked and clanked its way down the rough-hewn shaft. It had the dreadful chime of a lost waif rapping on untold doors in the vain hope of a warm welcome and a place ...