Someday, Mira, ask me about how you ended up like how you are. There are decisions that we took, are taking, and will take, that will end up shaping you into who you will turn out to be. We are aware of it, intensely. Your American passport, for example, might be a mundane legality that... Continue Reading →
I first met Jack around 4 years ago. Through the following years, I saw him exactly at 4 in the evening. At 4, the days he was at his shop, which was almost every day, he closes his shop, hangs a "Be Right Back" sign, and steps out to get coffee at the coffee shop... Continue Reading →
It strikes me that I am irrationally ambivalent towards the passage of time. As events unfold I cannot help feeling sad. Often it takes the form of a fleeting look of longing that flashes into the eyes at the end of a favorite retelling of long past happenings. It is almost as if the irretrievability... Continue Reading →
One of my pastimes, when I am engaged in otherwise mundane chores, is to think of the ontological explanations to my existence. On quiet afternoons I end up reflecting on how I have ended up as who I am. Wishfully, over many such reflections, I try to understand myself better. It is a quaint and non-aggressive... Continue Reading →
Last weekend I went visiting Syam in LA. His whole house was a mess. There was a piano that he hadn't touched in months. There was a dust-coated guitar propped up over the piano. Musical endeavors to make up for a culturally wasted youth. He must be 36. The kitchen was bustling with activity. We were... Continue Reading →
After my cousin's husband died, let us call him R, I did not call her up for almost a month. Some time ago, over politics, she being polemically conservative socially, and me, an avowed liberal on paper, we might have had our small cold war (one never is sure) resulting in guarded silencing of her views... Continue Reading →
Be. Explode into that momentary fleeting impulse. Melt into it unapologetically. Too often I hold back on those urges for fear of being irrational. Nevertheless, the flashing carousel of emotions and rages makes perfect sense to me. Not in a coherent strung together manner that can be passaged into prose. Or even poetry. They just... Continue Reading →
Blues is all about the notes you don't play. On particular nights, sultry notes that slide off a guitar lick tugs at my soul achingly. There are nights when quartets of blues guitarists, drummers, bassists, and saxophone players, are on a soft thumping groove, all of them oblivious to the world, making sweet music. Those are... Continue Reading →
**Trigger Warning** **Foul language** **birth and mortality** **boring shit** Guys fuck girls fuck guys in real life. Or so I have heard. I kind of missed that part. I hope you don't. Don't take my word for it kid. That is kind of how all, ok not all, most of the dickheads and cunts walking... Continue Reading →
And one moment she was there suddenly, compressed out of thin air, smoke emanating from her skin, cordite smell in the air. One of her eyes was red and bloodshot from pain and anguish. The other was black and mean. This is how I remember her genesis though she always claimed to have crawled out... Continue Reading →
Impersonally Personal Stories.
my love affair with Russian literature
Pandora's Box for Art Lovers and Beauty Seekers
Nicole Higginbotham-Hogue is a lesfic author at amzn.to/36DFT2x. Sign-up for her newsletter at higginbothampublications.com
As I navigate through this life ...
Epic Literary Reviews & Insights
The Reluctant Book Worm 
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