In honour of Ababa Tesfaye, the storyteller father of generations of habesha kids, I’ve added another summary of an oral folktale to the Why Sleep series. This one is a short one, a tale of three really stupid brothers. If the artwork doesn’t get you to click, I don’t now what will…
I walk on down a street I have never known.
On craving “…the same innocent enchantment I had when I was a reader of twelve or thirteen…”
I haven’t received the first ‘NO’ yet, but I’m sure it’s comin’, any day now. So I make sure to do my stretches regularly, the better to be limber enough to spring right back up after I receive the first of many smackdowns to come.
…because I want to look amazing when he next sees me (never mind he does not want me and when I am thinking clearly I don’t want him either)
As I enjoy this period of contentment and insight, I cannot help but feel that the worst is yet to come.
I resume journaling at the end of a relationship. Usually that’s when I realize all that was wrong with the relationship…I can’t help but think that this abandoning of journaling, as soon as I am coupled with a man, is a form of abandoning myself.