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MALLAH



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  1. Haem
  2. Shivers
  3. A Present
  4. Kingswood House  
  5. The Maiden Project
  6. Cabin by the End of the World

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They would bloom at the height of the Lebanese summer. 

Mid-July and burning hot, right outside the house in Baba’s garden. By browned pine trees that stretched up to little red roof tops on the mountains. Beneath I’d lie in the thick green amongst the swarming flies. Around sweet vine fruit that rotted quickly and dropped faster, landing by my knees.













                                                       



 



                                                         







 I followed, his persistent little shadow with a basket, catching berries tossed over his shoulder. Until forced inside. The birds would swoop down in the late afternoon and tear into what was left. Singing cries that filtered through glass panes where I’d sit in his study while he’d translate his newspaper. 


















His face was thin. 

It's somehow thinner now, life sucked clean from his features and left to his neck, spotted with ingrowns and thickened pores. I’d only very recently noticed how far up his facial hair grows, he had kept it quite clean in my childhood but had to shave very often. When he’d kiss my cheek I’d feel a slight sting from his stubble and shriek as though he’d pull away to a gash down the side of my face.