The old piled newspapers dating to as old as my age are my memories of a fading dream. perousing over the short stories from the Saturday and Young Nation not to mention The Standard bleeded in me a futuristic dream. A dream to write articles. When the late Whispers would write fictional stories. When Yusuf K Dawood would light my day with the Surgeons diary, and the later Mwalimu Andrew with the Staff room diary. All i wanted is to write and write and keep writing. write until i exhaust all the papers and paper pulps in the mills. Many years later, only the old piled news papers and my unpublished short stories are a constant reminder of my stagnated dream.
Posted on: Mon, 15 Dec 2014 10:46:28 +0000
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