writers
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10 Cups of Creativity: A Forgotten Reminder
Found this gem deep in an old folder from my Creative Thinking course. The assignment? “Draw 10 cups.” That’s it. No brief, no model, just 10 different ways to cup.Looking at them now, it’s wild. There’s the cracked, detailed one; the fluffy, blue, on-fire one; the messy scribble one; and the structured grid one. They’re all over the place, and that’s the point. At the time, I was just doing the work, probably stressing about the grade. But the prompt was actually asking: “What does creativity look like to you?” Looking at them now, it’s wild. There’s the cracked, detailed…
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Ladders Never Touch Mud
The ladder gleams, but never rustsit’s never met the soil. From polished heights, they summon contracted ghosts, specters in suits, hollow hands that sign but never build. Greed wears a tie, apathy seals the deal. We, the handlers, catch the crumbs of their lazy feasttardy briefs, half-baked decks, pixels that scream “we didn’t care.” You never want to call out the rot. You want silence, compliance, a nod that costs us sleep. Are youyou hypocritethe one who preaches excellence while outsourcing mediocrity? They say you’re vile. They whisper bribes. They count the favors you never earned. But a corner of…
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Today Ain’t My Day
The day started with the continuation of my fever that started from Saturday. The head ache… Felt like millions of minions banging hard inside the right side of my head. Hardcore pain. Still, I took some meds, packed my bag and started to work. Like always, pre-planned the tasks to be completed for the day. There was some hurry burry works, waiting to be closed and buried. That’s the primary reason that I didn’t take a sick leave. But… Well well… Day didn’t turn out the way I wanted. Entire day my vision was dark tinted. Felt like my entire…
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The Echo of Discourse
It lingers still,those fractured frames of memory,etched in the static of my thoughts.Your cursed cryptic wordsencrypted, fragmented, staying alive in me… Through me…still haunt the algorithm of my discourse. Some nights,the void stares back harder,a black hole swallowing the lastof my certainties.But I know,it’s just my past reflection fracturing,a glitch in my solitude. How often have I scrolled,paused at your pixelated silhouette,searching for proof of existence,a breadcrumb of your now,as if that image could patch the cracks. What ache,what unbearable ache,a virus in the system,a loop of trust corrupted. And then the whispers came,warnings disguised as wisdom:“Never trust shadows that…
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December Newsletter
The year-end newsletter expresses gratitude for 2024, announces a blog revamp with the Twenty Twenty Five theme, and wishes everyone happiness in 2025.
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Reclaiming My Garden
I removed the rose beds,Cleared away the weeds,I never wanted them to begin with.There was no one to help,It was just me,With bare hands.I dipped my fingers into the hardened soil,Plucking them one by one.The thorns cut my skin,Blood droplets painting the soil red.I put them in a box,Asked the mailman to send it to those women out there…Women who deserve those roses,Women who want those rose beds.I burnt the weeds to ashes.“Alone? Didn’t it take too much time?”They asked me…Yes, alone.While the sun rose and set…Fifteen moons passed by…I got drenched in the drizzles,Drizzles that swept from the darkest…
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October Newsletter
The October newsletter of A Solivagant’s Shoes is here, celebrating five remarkable years! Readers are invited to engage by guessing a mystery quote and sharing feedback. Your continued support enriches this journey, making each edition a heartfelt connection. Dive in and enjoy the latest updates from the blogger!
A Solivagant's Shoes 