ABOUT ME
Hey, kindred souls! I’m Abigail. I am an old soul with a fondness for hefty tomes and cinnamon tea. I write on topics such as the value of art, the struggles of being human, and the ways to sight beauty in a torn world.
May you find words of light and space to ponder in this haven of hope.
Recent Posts
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A Sonnet: Sunless Shade
Hello friends, I hope you have been well. Please forgive my relative silence — I’ve been adjusting to a new school system so I haven’t had the time or inspiration to write of late. However, I did want to share with you some exciting news. I received an award in the Youth category of the…
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Notes from People Watching
As I gazed out my car window one summer evening this week, I was confronted with how full the world is of activity, of movement. I passed little houses and claustrophobic apartments, sheltering the heads of people unknown. I glimpsed men and women walking, sweeping, talking, reading, engaging in quiet routines. Windows radiated with warm…
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Bidding Farewell
How does one say goodbye well? As I prepare to move to another city (an island, to be specific) and another school, this question courses across my mind. Even after years of moving from dwelling to dwelling, I am still in the process of finding the answer. Places and houses — physical entities — are…
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Vignette of Thomas
The room was dark, claustrophobic. Faces, flushed with awe, and voices, lilting with eagerness, undulated across the room. A man sat in the corner, hidden from view. The awful sounds, noises even fastened doors could not contain, crowded him. Like a knife, they pricked his skin. A chasm had cleaved between him and the others.…
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Dainty Things
I glanced out of the window, my eyes absorbing the Malaysian foilage and swaying flowers. Summer winds, for it is always summer, rustle through the trees, stirring the leaves to a soft waltz. Butterflies pirouette through the air, flaunting wings of ivory, ebony silk, deep amber, and pale yellow. A question transpires in my mind:…
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“Do Something That Won’t Compute”
There is a decided tiredness that seems to settle as the afternoon wanes and evening approaches. The world – bright with motion and brilliance – starts to fade, as night draws near. The fatigue trapped beneath rigid bricks of necessity and immediate action flutters forth, hanging shadows on the walls, the flowers, the chairs. I…
Glimpse beauty
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