Shattered Reflections

Beauty from the Broken

“Crightooon?” Her sing-song lilt warms me inside, though a cool autumn fog gathers around my squatting form. I like it when she says my name like there is no one she’d rather play with, but it’s probably not that. My sister Chay probably sent her after me. And Mother no doubt sent Chay. Supper time …

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Last week I watched a series I happened upon “by accident” on Netflix called The Kindness Diaries. When I selected it on my remote, all I knew about it was what the short description offered, something like: A man travels across the globe with nothing but a vintage motorbike with the intention to rely solely …

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