The saddest line you scraped in your diary was not that you cried but those moments when we both shared smile.
We are all born as storytellers. Our inner voice tells the first story we ever hear.
I had seen the world as either white or black.It is only when I read the pages of her diary that I understood why the sky looked so grey.
I was one of those unfortunates adopted by upper middle-class professionals and nurtured in an environment of learning, art and a socio-religious culture steeped in more than 2000 years of Talmudic tr...
It's a good thing most people bleed on the inside or this would be a gory, blood-smeared earth.
Concert pianists get to be quite chummy with dead composers. They can't help it. Classical music isn't just . It's a personal diary. An uncensored confession in the dead of night. A baring of the soul...
Zoo-Wee Mama!
I am a woman first of all. At the core of my work was a journal written for the father I lost, loved and wanted to keep. I am personal. I am essentially human, not intellectual. I do not understand ab...
For I have nothing to lean on, nowhere to call my home and there is nowhere I will go for Christmas to rest my head and touch familiar walls. I have no degree to show on paper or employment to take ca...
If I can only write my memoir once, how do I edit it?
… my joints ache with fatigue, my dried up body trembles toward its own destruction in turmoils of which I dare not become fully conscious, in my head are astonishing convulsions.