When all things seem to fall apart into a mess, subliminally, we send messages to our sub-consciousness to put things right, facilitate order from the chaos...
Author - Abigail George
Abigail George’s fiction was nominated for the Pushcart Prize. She briefly studied film at Newtown Film and Television School in Johannesburg. She is the recipient of grants from the National Arts Council, Johannesburg, Centre for the Book in Cape Town, and ECPACC (Eastern Cape Provincial Arts and Culture Council) in East London. She has been widely published from Australia, to Finland to Nigeria, and New Delhi, India to Istanbul, Turkey and Wales.
Her blog African Renaissance can be found online in Modern Diplomacy under Topics.
She contributed for a year to a symposium on Ovi Magazine: Finland’s English Online Magazine. She is a poet, fiction writer, feminist thinker, essayist, and a blogger at Goodreads.
Haiti SOS January 2010 here hope floats and is disguised in every civilian even in heartache, in brokenness, in helping hands that reaches out of the ground or...
She asked her clients to call her Angel. The truth was that she preferred it that way. It made it easier somehow. It gave her a level of confidence and of...
Africa has been colonised by France, Spain, Portugal, England and America with the result that there was gross exploitation of the people who were in this...
Sketches (For my paternal grandmother) The disappearance of vanity cannot be erased It serves to improve the quality of this lie The radio is nothing but a...
I am the ultimate comeback kid. I have made a beautiful career out of it as far back as I can remember. I happily reinvent myself if the occasion calls for it...
Closed Spaces This is life – There are no children on the playground Only empty bullets and gang warfare. ================ I am an African I am an...
She is a poet and a writer. The English language – words, books, reading poets and other writers and journalists – holds, mesmerizes and transfixes...
I miss you most when I am most alone with my innermost thoughts. When I am walking, perhaps talking to another student at the college. My innermost thoughts...
A Giant Mistake Rush, rush, rush You are not lost I am small Misplaced for my size Your memory Is like a giant colossus. I turn inside For some time...
The unknown is the greatest landscape in the world. Here nothing is unspeakable and extraordinary human endeavour is never sacrificed. There are zero moral...
