the little voyeur that could

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.