Category: Writing

Sophea T. Amari

The Day I Lived Again

The colours of the day. That’s how it started. A mellow, chocolatey hue, a billion flavours of sweet and salty, merging through a multitude of shades, intonation, hierarchy and captured feelings. Muted yellows, cloudy blues, raging reds- they danced in the visions of my eyes, that dark deep nothingness that died a thousand tears ago. …

Sophea T. Amari

Never let me go

I still hear his heart beating. It stills me into quietude. It beats like Morse Code. Against my own heart. Against my listening ear. And I continue to dream, with the stars in my eyes, the beginning of love growing and digging its vines into my toes, working its way up, past my calves, my …

Sophea T. Amari

Casablanca 36

A man from Morocco, he came to me in a dream There was a house named Casablanca 36 A haunted vision of cascading vines, that I was to seek. A blood-red orb burning in the sky While silvery raindrops, they are fallen And they slither down the feathery moss-green stones. And I met a woman …

Sophea T. Amari

Sell out

I’m not a rich person. I have to save up my money to buy the things I like. And I like a LOT of pretty things, which means, I sometimes go hungry just so I can save up for the Panerai that I really, really, really want… Some extra cash would be nice. So I started …

Sophea T. Amari

The List

When she was younger, like 12 or 13, she had a List. It started out with 2-3 things. Then as she grew older, the list became longer. It was no longer about what she truly wanted deep inside. It was also about what society dictated, what her parents would’ve wanted for her, to make them …

Sophea T. Amari

The outcast

He was tired of it all. As he dragged his weary feet up the 5th flight of steps to his apartment, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the fetid smell of urine permeating the air, his mind was saying, you’re a loser, you’re a loser. He sighed, then jumped in fright as a huge rat, …

Sophea T. Amari

Commercial houses

Hubs and I took E to the Kizsports Gym & Playland in Bangsar Village II on Monday, during the Deepavali public holiday. It was early still (well, relatively), about 11 a.m. Traffic was smooth. We were due to meet Charlie, Shen & baby Gavin there for a few hours of riotous fun. I love the …

Sophea T. Amari

A Problem

You have a problem, he says. Because he is my husband and he says this, like he is perfect, I resent him. I get angry. I become defensive. I cook up reasons why I don’t have a problem. I tell him, this is my money. I’ve earned it through sheer hard work. I want to spoil …