Imagery

See the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me.

The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside

Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain?

When the heat of the rolling wind can be turned away.

His corned working hands were brought out by years of hard work and toil

Let me photograph you in this light in case it is the last time…

I endured the pungent taste of unripe bananas

The aroma of freshly-brewed Colombian coffee wafted into the entire room.

The stench of body odour in a crowded LRT train seeped through the fabric of my shirt.

Mouth-watering ripe mangoes sit on the table ready to be devoured.