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Miki mbizii
52 followers -
An angel-headed hipster
An angel-headed hipster

52 followers
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Miki's posts

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April Reveries
The melancholy of a forgotten bauble left over from Christmas in an abandoned room, the dust covering the sticky side of a half-peeled tape, or photographs on the wall bloating and distorting in these humid afternoons, of your absence  chiseling  into the a...

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In Loving Memory of Terra Vera
Imagine a
ghost story that doesn’t scare, but manages to leave you feeling pleasurably
troubled with a deep sense of pathos. An emotion with perhaps no concrete name,
but a vaguely tragic, yet oddly gratifying sense of loss - sublime and
redolent: a ‘ What ...

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Curiouser and Curiouser
St. Foy abbey-church in  Conques , South France is a fantastic architecture, built between 8th and 11th century AD, it was a popular stop for medieval pilgrims. It is a lovingly and quirkily built church with carved pillars, galleries, exquisite ceilings an...

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Small. Static. Soft.
" Run your fingers through my soul. For once, just once, feel exactly what I feel, believe what I believe, perceive as I perceive, look, experience, examine, and for once; just once, understand.”                                                              ...

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It has been a while. And it may go on. But now, here, we chose to pause. Picking apart the litter of pages, scattered entries, queries, and reveries. We despair, we puzzle. Somewhere the anchors and floats fitted too well. We became too comfortable; a numbi...

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Today, I went to Lulu and nearly got sick of seeing the excessive consumerism. Today I tried hunting for vazhakoombu (banana blooms) and muringa poo (moringa flowers) I got neither. I have thought about you so much in the last several months. I secretly vis...

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**
“The past fascinates me obsessively, I suppose, because it’s such a strange phenomenon,” he said. “The past was the present at some point, and it was just as boring as the present. What makes it so important? What gives it that luminous, exalted quality whe...

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Falling, A Dissonance
We entered each other like hunger-mad rodents. Our collision made time stretch colder. It was a union of unspokenness that had the timbre and texture of our restless, incomplete dreams.  I remember the tender in-betweens more than our tumultuous intertwinin...

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Placid Tones
My dreams taste of espresso shots, take shapes of anagramed haiku, geometric contemporaneity, misty lakescapes through the wrong end of a telescope, the beguiling cerulean details of a butterfly wing under a begrimed pane. Picture: Still from Wong Kar-wai's...

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My Hunger Lies Between Your Words
Yet you elude me- I give my words legs and watch  them walk away, giving birth on sidewalks and eat up all creaks and chaos  Old crones and crows walk under my eyes at night, leaving footprints- they turn to voices in the rays drifting away, pieces running ...
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