one of my favourite and possibly worst habits is looking into other people’s rooms as i pass by. you could say that the writer in me is a naturally curious soul, but jamaican people would just se mi faas.
to me, that’s what flash fiction is like. it strips away context and background, leaving behind a uniquely isolated moment.
it is art elevated to purist ideals.
it is life stripped of its frippery.
it is the human soul that flares briefly in a stolen glance.