There is a bump on the road

I have become one of those people, who fret about not writing, and then proceed to write about the same. Confronted with the silence in my head, I find that there are no words left for me to spill, no knots to loosen; just an … Continue reading There is a bump on the road


Autofiction, when servicing the mundane occurrences of life, can be unbearable to read; drowning in narcissism and vainly attempting to produce words that carry depth. Shobasakthi's autofiction is unbearable for a different reason: the colloquial and careless manner in which it documents a vicious circle … Continue reading Gorilla