I woke up in a Google play store. Not the app on my phone, the actual place. Icons hovered above me like constellations. My pillows and bedsheets were gone. I stood, still bewildered and staggered into a towering shelf and all the icons came crashing down on me. A robotic laugh oozed from the intercom.  Wait, someone is watching?  I brushed past the fallen icons.  “Can anyone tell me what is going on?” I yelled so loud but my voice only echoed, no reply. A TV flickered on and the first breaking news headline clamored “4094- Robot era: Robots now in charge of the world” . Wait what? Many experts had called this impossible. How could it have happened? The same voice from the intercom spoke again  “Welcome human, here's your quest for today: In this storeroom, you can only travel in bubbles and request a ride from just one app. You may extract your bubbles from any photograph or artwork that contains one.”  My heart skipped but almost instantly I remembered two sou...

  Hi,  so I didn't buy flowers, petals aren't a price tag for love I think, I thought of places you've never been, You've been to my soul, the chapbook office where I keep my poems, the garden, the bustling city - of course you drive through that everyday, your house with the brown door. I've watched peter-pan together with you, and we've wished upon ourselves  that our hair turns grey but our love must not become stale. must ! - I'd add an exclamation here. We've laid our backs on the grass and we've shaken our feet to the stars, all these we've done every Valentine and every other day. I thought of what universe your soft ribs haven't given an abode. Dear, I thought of a painting, Rainy Day by Gustave Caillebotte, Two simple souls under an umbrella her arms in his, walking gently on that Paris street. I desire to take you to the art gallery to see the art, a young artist on my street painted something like it and I want us to go there under...

  Yesterday, the first rain fell. I think harmattan is gone. It was slow to come and quick to leave. The mornings are no longer cold or misty. Whew! I survived. If Harmattan was a celebrity, I wouldn't be a fan. My skin gets dry, crisscrossed lips, my nose feels like I'm breathing through foam, my under feet looks patchy, scaly and horrible and everywhere is dusty. So I want to ask Mhide if the lady in her artwork also experiences these things too?  Harmattan by @Justmhide Her eyelashes seem to wage war against dryness though. Lol. Usually my first thought of Harmattan won't be “beautiful” but this painting makes Harmattan feel so gentle. I'd call the blue flower the sky‑blue plumbago which blooms during Harmattan in Africa, a representation of beauty in dust and dryness, hope and calm. source :  https://toptropicals.com/pics/garden/m1/Raznozwet9/Plumbago_auriculata_2046_flowers_.jpg  The flower seems boring to her though ‘cause she isn't even looking at it. She...