If prison walls could speak Mine would sing sad songs to me They have boxed me in all my life and they would cry their hearts out to me-...

Pomaa was bored out of her mind. She counted the minutes that passed and passively drummed on the notepad on her lap.  She was trying her...

So when someone asks me “why do you write”, the first thing that rolls off my tongue is; “that’s what comes easier to me” or “I enjoy...