Writing has always brought be great comfort. From the moment I discovered what putting pencil to paper could do, I could rely on it to purge by self without the fear of having my thoughts exposed.
Through it, I could imagine a different world.; one with enough quiet, enough to eat, a sense of belonging and enough tolerance to hear others speak. These were not perfect worlds; they were just better.

My kindergarten teacher, Ms Larina and I fell out when she wouldn’t let me write. I was fussy she said, thinking myself better than the others who were happy singing the same rhyme for the hundredth time. Such was my urge to pour out my thoughts that I left kindergarten and placed myself outside the headmistress’  office to write-out my time till grade one.

Other people’s work have also brought me joy. A good book could have me nodding in agreement or shaking my head in disbelief to the amusement of other commuters.There are ‘ahhas’ when someone finally articulates a thought you’ve  had but couldn’t quite string into words.

My hope for vicissitudes is that through my writing , I can bring meager ‘ahhas’ to those who read it.

Welcome to vicissitudes