Dreaming in the Dirt

The thing that haunted them the most was that when their eyes closed, their minds imagined perfection; everything their present could be, gilded anew. And yet once their eyes opened, none of it survived. The tortured fray, they’re called these days, enduring the nightly loop of dreaming of a future their hands can’t build.

[mis]Guided.

Bright red hues announced the drowsy sky. “I need your help, father” he admitted, barely above a whisper. “I have lost my way.” Chancing a timid move toward the solemn white-haired man who sat waiting on the platform, the ensuing minutes of conversation shone a light on Dede Dramani’s deep discomfiture; this old man’s perspective […]