Jabar's gallery

                    As she approached the open front door of her apartment she wondered whether they hadn't hurt her mother. Once she got in, she noticed that everything was in place except for the broken vessel in the center of the living room which indicated that there might have been a struggle as Frank's boys made the move. Yet they were so clean. Nothing else was broken or damaged. They likely captured the old woman swiftly without a single soul noticing them. She turned around to examine the door closely. It hadn't a single scratch. Whoever made it in either had a copy of the key  or found it open. But it could never have been open as far as Lucy knows her mother's cautiousness. By now, she would probably be yelling at her for returning late like she had always done since Lucy's late teens. She ran out to examine the courtyard. Whichever vehicle had done this was definitely big as its tyre tracks indicated, And it was most likely not too long ago that the mudd

                 Tokum Mall at the end of her sight, she'd make it there but it meant missing her train. Tokum Mall was the only place that listened to her weeps without judgment. It had always been her cave. She needed it like a Martian did. She had never really gone through the array of dealing with disappointment like the way most women handle it. She had always achieved the best in whatever she pursued in her earlier years. Talk about how she consecutively won the national spelling B 3 years straight during high school. Why not? She was a vigorous reader too. She had flipped the Merriam-Webster dictionary  pages back to back 5 times. Or how she almost made it to the Olympics if not for her preference to stay dedicated to her academics to pursue a real career. This is the real Lucy, she'd taken every opportunity to excel professionally but now for the first time in her life, she felt lost in her pursuit. It was a chaotic Friday evening as always. She could see the orange sun

           Lucy does not fancy flirting because she also never catches herself when she actually does. Imelda watched as her friend got drained in the intense dialogue with a guy who had once crushed on her. You could tell that he enjoyed every bit of it. Her voice, blended with how she spoke with her body, told you how much she was into the conversation. She maintained fine eye contact and occasionally lost her breath between words. When she burst into laughter, she didn't even notice that the whole room had eyes on her. The guy couldn't help but stare at her ex-crush's excitement.   Perhaps she's come to her senses...that I am the one for her, He hoped. The same minute he imagined them going on a long honeymoon. How perfect would that be? Fate must be playing her cards in his favor. He was no longer listening. He could only hear her beautiful voice in the background on her fine portrait giggling and smiling the whole time.  'Oh Brandon.' exploded Lucy excitedl

                             She climbs the stairs to her mother's room where the home printer is. Even though her mother wouldn't mind her much, she decides to tip-toe across the floor to turn the machine on. It's 2 AM in the night. Lucy is nervous and equally excited about the job she is applying for. She presses the printer's power button and witnesses it as it starts to kill her silent entrance. 'I am sorry Mom,' she says as she exhales heavily. 'It's okay sweetie. I was awake anyway. Looks like the printer betrayed you,' said her mother, humorously. 'You know this is the home printer, Lucy. You have full right to it just as I do. Even though it resides in my room' 'But I didn't want to dist -" 'Shhhh, me and your dad know how much this job means to you and we will always have your back sweetie. Now go get some sleep. You have a job to chase tomorrow. These copies will be ready by the hour you get up. Lucy was speechless.

It could be the time Says the man who saw his death Cross legged at his apartment's balcony His ears hear only silence Its the darkest time of the night Perhaps this is what death sounds like  He's finally embraced insomnia Alive through every single night His life seems to emulate the Wolverine's The politics of reality finally consuming him He has but one option left, fight Fight for this one thing he chose Fight for this one life like puss in boots For man hasn't the luxury of all 9 lives Some people have chosen us over others We can never let go of the things we've built His outer man seems desperate But at least his inner man is rigid The future looks brighter Yet his end feels nearer This could be the time Says the man who saw his death 

"You may not believe, but I am a very different man now" "I am a different man too. What do you want. Get out of here." Moghin shouted back bitterly to the beggar that had interrupted our coversation. The miserable man was respectful enough to leave us alone. I kept on wondering, "Have I been here? Will my life ever get to this?" I understood the scene enough not to entertain a second thought in their shoes. I clearly observed that both these men meant what they said but none of them was one bit empathetic to the other. The beggar's speech only craved for sympathy while the man next to me was the pure opposite. Cold and bitter. Life had played her cards on them both and won. Or as Ugandans say, "life humbled them." The night was cold and it wouldn't stop drizzling. We had stopped by " Chicken Tonight" to buy some time off the disturbing weather.  "I was the sole beverage supplier of that city for close to 10 y