Freedoms deepest secret_Life Cycle_Greed!_Milestones to Woe
Catalog Guide:
Freedoms deepest secret
"You shouldn't do it, Lucy," my mother droned, her delicate fingers entangled in my hair. It seemed unfair for her to confess this so late. After all, I had been sitting in the black leather chair as she spoke. "I've already paid," I responded; it was untrue but a desperate attempt to get her off my back. I'd worked all summer to save up enough money to get my hair cut. It hung past my knees—the edges frizzed from years of pinning it up, and when the sun hit it just right, the color resembled thick marmalade. My mother sighed; she knew she couldn't change my 15-year-old rebellious mind but ref...
Life Cycle
“Grow up,” I tell the bike messenger. “And give me what I asked for. You know it’s not yours.” I’m standing on a traffic island in one of San Francisco’s widest and busiest intersections. After watching this guy blaze past the island every hour on the hour all morning, I had finally gotten lucky and a red light stopped him right in front of me. Lean tattooed body, tight jean shorts with ragged hems, and a bright pink cycling cap. He unclipped one shoe from its pedal and stood looking at the red lwww.onedoor.ccight impatiently. That’s when I told him to get off the bike. Unsurprisingly, he did...
Greed!
Ram had never seen a place so quiet. There was no market commotion, no toddlers rushing between his legs, no vendor yelling his rates. All he saw were inpiduals acting sophisticated and regal while moving around carefully and swiftly, with barely even a faint squeak of their shoes in the puddle. The exchanges take place in a matter of seconds, and he is left blinking in awe and amazement. His eyes take all the colors that seem to be the only thing familiar in this market. Red, Yellow, Blue – was he in a painting? He loved markets for their sound, the loud chattering, the merry giggles, the fig...
Milestones to Woe
“This was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives”Friday…Pause. Rewind to Thursday.Chantalle stepped out of her dorm room into the hallway and dialed on her Samsung. She speaks quieter than usual, calling out mildly, ‘Hello, mama. Hello, are you there?’. She multiply turns at her sides to see for anyone passing while on the phone, as if she was hiding. She was. She complained for the little money given her. Her mother convinced her to be patient until she is paid her poor salary.Chantalle lowly replied, “I’ll call you next week then, greet my siblings for me. Bye”. Downhearted with yet ...