
of culture, religion, faith, race and all things divisive
Platters of fruits They sat around the tables as the Imam led the Dua for Iftar.
My name is Amara (she/her). I am an outdoorsy soul and from as far back as I can recall, writing has been my primary mode of expression. That was until I got Chemo brain during Cancer treatment. Going through that stage made me start blogging again.
Click here to learn more about me!Platters of fruits They sat around the tables as the Imam led the Dua for Iftar.
As reviewed through the eyes of an unmarried, Igbo woman
“My father called me” Khadijat blurted out as I picked her call “Which father? I was confused “Alhaji”
“When I got pregnant, everything changed. Especially within my family. The disappointment was too heavy. I had gone from the
Holding my son’s crotch in my hands, I gingerly tilted it allways as I
It is 0351hours GMT on Wednesday 26/02/25. And I am standing by my North-facing window.
“See, immediately we leave, take that Oramorph so you can sleep easily” Jay sounded more African than British right now
“It kills me sometimes how people die” says Death compassionately as he marches along
Join Mr Death as he narrates his side of the story through this Nazi German streets in WW2
Two days ago, I walked past a florist and noticed something unusual.
Stepping back, I peered into the cartons and
She strode out elegantly in her all-white ensemble towards the stage.
Cher was one of those chosen to come out and share a reason why they came here.
“Have you ever seen a little child before a mirror? Do you notice how taken by the mirror they appear?”
Shana faced the room as her little boy tugged at her sleeve