La Mariée – Artwork & Poetry by Lucia Daramus

It’s the Little Things

Lucia Daramus is an artist who wears many hats! Today we have the wonderful opportunity of viewing her mystical piece of artwork as well as poetry inspired by Marc Chagall.


La Mariée
by Lucia Daramus

Marc Chagall takes a bride
he bought a wife paying many , many flowers
the groom is flying above the houses
under the dense luminous blue sky

the bride has love wings
and she is picking the bouquet from the groom
through air with crystal splashes
and golden flakes of summer snow

Marc Chagall takes a bride
the wedding is performing in clouds
everything is flying…birds , people
horses and flying crickets

in the sky is wedding, marvellous wedding
the green , the blue, the yellow , the red
are flying, flying, flying through the mauve planets
through the daily stars of people’s minds

Marc Chagall takes a bride –


Lucia Daramus is a Writer, Editor, Free-lance Journalist, and Artist, based in Gloucestershire. Recentley she completed her  course in  Creative Writing at Oxford University. Her MA is in Linguistings, and BA in Ancient Greek and Latin.   

She read poetry in Cluj-Napoca, Bacau, Iasi, Bucuresti, Sibiu, Botosani (Romania), Chisinau (Republic Of Moldavia), Gloucester, Bristol, Edinburgh, Stroud, Stourpaine, London, etc. (United Kingdom).

Between 1993 and 2008 she lived in Cluj-Napoca (Romania) and she won some important prizes for poetry and  Canadian International Poetry Prize ”Gasparik”. She also won an International Prize for Poetry, 2018, at The International Book Festival Dublin. 

Her literary workes were published in magazines in France, Canada, Romania, Germany, USA, England, Republic of Moldavia,  etc. 

She published 10 books in Romanian language and 3 books of poetry in English language.

She also was exhibited as an artist: 

Cluj – Napoca Romania (collective exhibition)

Gloucester – UK (collective exhibition)

Longfield – UK (Collective exhibition )

Cheltaham  – Uk  (collective exhibition )

Stroud – uk (own exhibition ) – ESCAPE FROM MADNESS, March 2018

Stroud – UK (own exhibition) – The Colours of Our Life, February, 2020

Lucia Daramus has a very open mind and in one of her essays – ‘ When The Colours Flow Over The Universe – she said: You can lose your country, you can lose your land, you can lose all of your wealth , but you remain with something: you remain with your language to lament your sadness, your blue feelings; you remain with the colour to reflect the anxiety of your soul; you remain with the dance which can imagine your struggle.

If all of these are kidnapped because of an ill-luck of an illness of mind, you remain with the memory of these  types of creation which come from subconscious.

Flowery – Poetry by Aldo Quagliotti

It’s the Little Things

Aldo Quagliotti writes about a love out of reach. Follow along with the imagery and tender descriptions of passion.


The indispensable was born
out of your yawns
I dyed my fingertips as I blushed
You told me I was a cutie
that your pulp would be my sunset

I sit down and loosen up
Your arms are rosebushes
thorny waves sedating my itchiness
I ride your aims when you dash off
I draw my smiles when your face turns down
I sing the Opera when the wind
expired few nights ago and it’s mid summer

don’t you see that my flips are bouquets
a tête-à-tête of poems-sharing

you have the rainforest between your legs
I run the risk, one-off explorer

Your soul is a flowery jewelry
A reflection of everything I can’t get
My head around
My hands about
To mirror your moonwalk
When I poetically arise
From another Macarena


My name is Aldo Quagliotti, an Italian author living in London since 2017. In 2019 I published my first collection of poems called Japanese Tosa with London Poetry Books and since then my poems have been included in several anthologies such as The Essential and Cannon Poet Quarterly but they have also gained international attention with Italian, Brazilian and American collections. 

Check Out:

That Summer Day – Poem by Abhinita Mohanty

It’s the Little Things

Summer can bring both joy and pain, but all of it is a feeling of life. Read this lovely poem by Abhinita Mohanty that captures the summer magic of love and sorrow.

That Summer Day

That time, I saw you last,
You have never looked such a sombre version,
It seemed there was a smile in you, and an inverted curve on my face,
Your mom looked away, her voice muffled
Under sweltering heat, in sweat, I remembered,
We both hated summers,
Those nasty, smell of grime on hair and
Those prickly rashes in our cleavage,
Under that sun, you looked so dainty,
That day, at your funeral,
I finally fell in love with that summer,
And your iridescent presence flickers,
Through other summers passing by
The face of yours, like the firmness of dewdrops,
Gives me another day to live by, and
Another sweltering summer, to look forward to, reminiscent
How much we have hated summers.
Our melting sundae from the ‘hub’ store,
Hair soaked in saline dreams, lip-glosses melting into air, and
The nape of our backs soaking away vapours,
Those red rashes that refuse to stir, since that summer,
Everything is relived, replayed,
Until those linens choke the air out of me.


I am Abhinita Mohanty from Odisha, India. I am pursuing a PhD in the Department of Humanities and Social Sciences, IIT Madras. My works have been published in Outlook Magazine (Website), Feminism in India (FII), New Asian Writing, Burgundy Balloon, Trouvaille Review, Tribune newspaper and Women’s web. I try to bring new perspectives of ideas and about life in my poetry. My poems are an attempt to capture, mostly small, insignificant moments which stirs me.




Instagram: @traveleatreadlive

Counting Days – Artwork by Nia Gautama

It’s the Little Things

Getting through this pandemic requires us to use our creative skills. Come see Nia Gautama’s inventive take on how she holds up during these difficult times!

Counting Days

Nia Gautama – Indonesia


28 x 35 cm

Collage, text, drawing, charcoal, watercolor pencil, paper

There are things happened from external factor that we can’t control. This year global issue is the pandemic of Covid-19, that strike the world which affected to economic and social life. Also in art activities, many are canceled or postpone, and arts ecosystem – artists, galleries, organizers, institutions, etc-  should struggle and unite together  to survive.

As therapy, I try to count my days, to adjust the new routine to work mostly from home and enjoy most of my studio time. We have to be optimist, that this too shall pass. 


Nia Gautama is  an independent artist, researcher and lecturer who resides in Bandung. She has actively exhibited both at home and abroad: “Artworks Raffle I & II”, Museum MACAN, Indonesia (2020); “Special Exhibition of Female Creation : Let’s Swing”, Xinying Cultural Center, Tainan, Taiwan (2019); “The Ceramic View Bangkok, Bangkok Thailand (2016); “SELSIUS-USM International Ceramic Festival, Penang, Malaysia (2014)”; “The Meeting Place-Asian Century”, Gold Coast, Australia (2013);  “Clay Unity Celebrating the Diversity of Southeast Asia”, FLICAM, Fuping, Shaanxi, China (2012); “Jakarta Biennale: Maximum City” (2011-2012);  “2nd Shanghai Modern Pot Art Biennale”, Shanghai, China (2010); and “The Ceramic Road of Southeast Asia”, Yingge Ceramics Museum, Taiwan (2009).


IG : nia_gautama

FB : nia Gautama

Website :

A Lover is Needed & Other Poetry by Walid Abdallah

It’s the Little Things

Take a load off and come read the sweet poetry of Walid Abdallah! Get swept up in the romance and let it fill your heart with elation!

A lover is needed 

A lover is needed for an everlasting love relation
A true lover that meets my expectation

A lover with true emotional qualification
A lover to accompany my heart in its destination

A lover never knows how to betray
A word of separation they never say

A lover that always be there in time of need
A lover that always waters the love seed

A lover that always stays near and shows care
A true lover that always shows love anytime and everywhere

A true lover should be a permanent and eternal friend
Whether near or far only true feelings they send

A lover that should know how I feel before speaking
A lover that never believes in heart breaking

A lover that must dive deep into the bottom of my heart
A lover that never says bye or knows how to depart

In hard times they never change or leave
But in me they always believe

They should always show me love and respect
And give me true heart feelings more than I expect

They should always be around all the time
And never leave me even for some time

They should stand unbearable man
And show love and endurance as possible as they can

Whoever finds in themselves these qualifications
They have just won my eternal love and great expectations

Ask Me

Ask me whatever you want, my dear

My heart will answer truly I swear

Ask me why God created the earth

Only to receive your happy birth

Ask me why God created the sun

Only to help you spread warmth, light and fun

Ask me why God created the moon in the sky its place

Only to lighten the universe sharing your face

Ask me why God created the stars so bright

Only to be like your teeth when it is night

Ask me why God created me

Only to fall in your love as forever will be

Ask me why I love you

Only for the life into my veins you flow

Finding you 

Finding you is getting my life again

Forgetting my sufferings and pain

You put me on the right way

After being lost, being astray

Now I love life for your sake

Forgetting all what is false or fake

You are the one I ever searched for

Because of you, I tasted the love I never knew before

Forever Young

My heart is forever young
A divine hymn to be sung

I love everyone and always forgive
As twice as I take, I always give

I try to be nice as possible as I can
Of peace and love I am a great fan

Life is short to waste in hate
Let tolerance be our only fate

Love people and nature around
Only the base of justice we must found

Leave good mark on each heart you meet
Let your nice memory your main good feat

Whenever you go spread love and affection
Be much nicer than people’s prediction

Treat everyone equally be always fair
Show everyone your respect and care

Being respectful is something you never regret
You will be rewarded more than you expect

We are on earth to make it a paradise
Listen to me and follow my advice

Dream big and complain less
Sadness never lasts and neither does happiness

Think positively and always be optimistic
You can’t change your fate by being pessimistic

Let live, love and learn your goal
Carve them deep in your soul

The heart that doesn’t know envy lives longer
It has better destiny and grows stronger

My heart is forever young
A divine hymn to be sung

.Forget….? Not Yet

I was a little kid one day
I knew nothing but how to play

Once we had a big house and a tree
Every day I used to see

I was playing with other boys
Around the tree with different toys

I always had a dream in my head
To grow up, be bigger than a kid

I always had a wish
Never to know grief or anguish

Did I forget…..?
Never….not yet.

One day I had black hair
Satisfied with my parent’s care

I knew nowhere but my parents’ embrace
I knew that is our house and our place

I still remember my white kite
Flying over our house before my sight

Going to school with friends of my age
Once I was young … a little page

Once we had a full life of our own
Once we had our sun and moon

Did I forget…..?
Never ……not yet.

Suddenly I grew up a thousand years
With cries, grief and tears
It was the first time to hear about Zionist occupiers
Of our own life, they are deifiers

Everything turned upside down one day
My black hair turned into grey

They destroyed our house and tree
Heard lots of desperate cries…Alas, it was me!

And showed up one Zionist
And said to me “Get out, terrorist”

Did I forget…….?
Never….,not yet.

My own parents, they brutally slew
Our house and tree, they fiercely up blew

I had no ability even to weep
As terror into my heart began to creep
Our own life, they have stolen
Our house and tree have fallen

Zionists shouted, “We came to take your land”
Your sky, desert and sand

They said, “Of our own land-get out
With guns’ and tanks’ shouts

Did I forget?
Never, not yet

I began to walk away and run
Under flaming sky and weeping sun

They forced me to desert my land, what a vile!
In my own country, everlasting exile!

All houses, schools and mosques, they demolished
All our friends and relations, they perished
Under my feet I lost my way
In my country, I became astray

My parent slept in eternal peace
They took every comfort and left me no piece

Did I forget?
Never, not yet

I was looking for a place to settle
With no food and water was so little

A while passed and saw some kids like me
They ran away, they did nothing but to flee

We lived together
We were brother to brother

Recalling what happened before our eyes
And our cries reached the skies
Everyone, his story, told
With weather was so cold

Did I forget?
Never, not yet

We promised each other
To defend our country together

We would get back our land
Arm with arm and hand to hand

We are stronger with the power of faith
We have no fear to face

Together we would sweep them out
With our faith, without doubt

The day will come so soon
And get back our sun and moon
Did we forget?
Never, not yet

Pain and torture, they invent
With horror and deliberate intent

Every time they kill one of ours
The more we gain powers

One day they would taste pain
They created a mad world, so insane

They make our streets full of bones
We are much stronger with stones

Keep demolishing houses more and more
We have more stones and they are our weapon and cure

Did we forget?
Never, not yet

As long as there is a drop of sweat
We are not afraid to be killed or hit

As long as there is a drop of blood in our vein
Our struggle would never be in vain

To achieve our own dream
Their hopes must steam

To see a green branch of leaves
Only when the last Zionist leaves

Our relations whose lives they sacrifice
In a procession direct to paradise

With prophets and martyrs, they live together
An eternal life that would never wither

Did we forget?
Never, not yet

The land is ours and forever will remain
Despite all people, they kill and detain

On the land where Jesus Christ once put his feet
The same land will witness Israel’s defeat

Zionists in our land they plant envy
God is watching and destiny

We have God’s right
With which dawn overcomes long night

Did we forget?
Never, not yet

Al Aqsa weeps and calls
Its lobbies and halls
So many martyrs on its land, no matter
For the pigeon again to come and flutter

Despite all Zionists’ crimes, the world turned the deaf ear
Our dream is getting closer, it is very near

For our country we come like water flow
Yearning for our clear sky and its blue

We never surrender or agree
To be slaves after being free

Did we forget?
Never, not yet

Our waiting will never be so long
Jerusalem and Al-Aqsa to us they belong

We will get our right back
And put an end to the night so black
We will get our life again
And get our land every mount and plain

Al-Aqsa will open again to pray
And will never be an easy prey

Our kids will never be slaves
With freedom every newborn behaves

Did we forget?
Never, never, never, not yet.

Her Love 

For the eyes with which I can see

For the heart without which I can never be

For the love of my life as a whole

For my eyes, heart and soul

Although now I can’t see her

She has all my love and care

She is the only cure for my pain

She is the love, I can’t explain

Her love no words can ever express

And will ever remain until after my death

Only for her- these lines – I dedicate

For the love determined only by fate

There is a great myth, I once read
About early mankind, it was said

That was called tale of creation
Was narrated after Eve temptation

When man and woman were in the same body
When one dress was enough for both to embody

At that time man was predestined with only one wife
Throughout his whole life

He didn’t have for a lover to look
All was in his lot, in his book

They loved each other by nature
And nothing could change this feature

Man and woman were forever together
Nohing could make their love wither
Not only one body, but also one soul
Doom and lot drag them and enthrall

They have their own life and happiness
And never knew solitude or loneliness

The soul was in love with the soul
Even before being created at all

They own everything, even the universe
Always together from birth to death

They had the land, not the sky
They could walk and swim, but not to fly

They heard about Gods’ in the skies
Whoever stares up would lose their eyes

The sky means suffer and fear
Where Gods are cruel and unfair
In order to laugh and have fun
They sometimes removed the sun

Gods’ hands were of good and evil
Sometimes hands of merciful and others of devil

There was a God of war
And other of love and adore

There was a God of hate
And a God for improving fate

Suddenly there was a fierce war among Gods
And turning people into bugs or even buds

They began to throw balls of fire
They had their dream and a desire

Separating man away from his wife
Without caring about their life
People began to Gods pray
Despite being victims and prey

For stopping the irony of these conflicts
In turning people into insects

Nobody could hear or care
To stop that nightmare

Till Zeus participated in the game
And became “king of Gods” his name

Zeus easily stopped the war
But couldn’t fix the violations happened before

Man and woman from now on are separating
Can’t any more weld and became impossible their meeting

From now on man lost his own lover
And has to search for her forever
Rarely some succeed in finding her
Some fail although she is very near

People are cursed to hesitate
Can’t make up their mind by fate

Man must walk everywhere and wander
To meet either success or surrender

Even if his lover is very near
He can’t make sure and say “that’s her” is this fair.

I Need You

I need your eyes to see my way
I need your smile to make my day

I need your love to live my life
I need your heart to forget strife

I need your soul to have a being
I need your mind to appreciate my feeling

I need you by my side
I need you in my heart to reside

I need you my angel and Princess
I need you to give me eternal happiness

I need you my dear forever
Promise not to leave me, never

If you will, you can

If you will, you can reach your goals
Man with ambitions never falls

Go for your dream, be ready to fight
Beat your weakness, overcome your night

Always live happily and dream big
Make dreams a crown to be your wig

Let your actions make your noise
Always make success your voice

No room for the weak on this land
Plant your dreams even in rock or sand

Create wings and learn to fly
Conquer your fears and never cry

Wander about the earth to find yourself
Never give up, never put your dreams on a shelf

Never waste your time in regret
Your dreams are closer than you expect

When you fall down, stand up at once
Everyone must taste failure at least once

Success after tiredness is very sweet
Set plans to create your feat

Surround yourself with the optimistic
Get rid of the nasty and the pessimistic

In order to reach the success shore
You need to cross the deep moor

If you will, you can
Snatch your dream, be a man


Walid Abdallah is an Egyptian poet and author. He is a visiting professor of English language and literature in Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Germany and the USA, his poetry includes “Go Ye Moon”, ” Dream” and “My heart still beats” And has several translated poems which won prestigious prizes in the USA like “Cause”, “Egypt’s Grief”, and “Strangers’ Cross”, his books include Shout of Silence, Escape to the Realm of Imagination, and Man Domination and Woman Emancipation.

My Mother’s Short-Lived Celebration & Other Poems by Debasis Tripathy

It’s the Little Things

To start our work week, Debasis Tripathy provides us with poetry about little things a mother does, a little bit of food, and a little search for happiness! Come take a look!

My Mother’s Short-Lived Celebration

Sunlight is busy sanitizing the morning’s cold
and my mother is engaged in hanging her saree,

fresh, out of semi-automatic washing machine,
cleaned, rinsed, starched, half-dried—

on a nylon rope stretched between pillars,
when a gust of wind comes whizzing past

and her garment slips down, sails away.
hops on the grass with an unruly wilderness,

till she catches it tight, like how she gripped me once
at the end of a taxing chase, back in my tender age

and like how she firmly caught my tender ears,
she secures the saree with a plastic clothespin.

Just then from nowhere comes rain washing her robe
cleaner, spoiling her short-lived celebration.


Yesterday summer afternoon, I made
salt-n-sugar shikanji, chilled,
for both of us. To the lemonade

mint leaves, cumin powder I added.
And ginger juice (an afterthought). Unsure
I was how it’d turn out, to be candid

So, I sipped a spoon of the drink,
I could not take a risk, especially
when you are so fussy, I think.

When it comes to taste, for perfection
you strive and I hate this about you.
Not you, just the trait. Correction.

Attentively I arranged all this, while
you were taking your siesta, in some style.

I didn’t want you to find out what
was happening. A surprise, I know
it’s been a decade, or thereabout.

Luckily for me, the final outcome
was a cool blend of sweet, sour and spicy,
just like how our life has become.

It Changes

There was a season I was plagued
by a curse of causeless fears,
even while I was not thinking anything
I was afraid of the next moment

and one morning I was so scared
I couldn’t leave the bed, unmade and messy
resembling the man I had turned myself into.

Happiness, when scarce, you keep searching
for it like a mad man seeking the elusive god,
even though people say he is everywhere
you don’t see him and turn into a severe agnostic—
who goes about exhorting all men to deny & doubt.

And by the same evening, I received a letter
which promised me redemption and more.
Then followed an ovation and celebration.

The next morning, I woke up as a believer –
the first thing I did was to make the bed
with a white sheet, smelling of a fresh future
with a pattern of violet flowers and green leaves.

Happiness, when aplenty, is a vast ocean
filled with tall creatures that float around
with tentacles, trailing you like shadow;
each armed with thousands of stinging cells

a single cell can kill the part of you that
remembers what you were and who you really are-
eventually, all that remains is scaly husk

of the difficult past, that didn’t last.


Debasis Tripathy does a regular desk job for an IT Company in Bangalore. Sometimes he writes – poems and short fiction.  

He tweets at @d_basis

The Good Girl – Animated Film by Kevin Hogan

It’s the Little Things

Kevin Hogan presents us with a fun and sweet artform in his animated film, The Good Girl! Follow the charming story of a dog and let it bring a smile to your face and joy to your day!


Kevin Hogan is an Award-winning Animator and Filmmaker. His films have featured in film festivals around the world, played on television and have been curated for exhibition at Museums of Modern Art. 
Notable Works Include:”The Hand”- Winner for Short Subject- Experimental Film at the 2018 Metro Film and TV Awards; Curated for ESMoA Film Exhibition
“A Stinging Fastball”- Film Distribution Agreement


Multi-Medium Artwork by Yohanes Soubirius De Santo

It’s the Little Things

Yohanes Soubirius De Santo makes his creations using many mediums including palm leaves, cardboard, and more! Each piece has incredible thought and meaning behind it, translating into great artistic expression.

Photo of the Work Gospel Summary

Palm leaves as a product of rich cultural meaning have raised Indonesia in the midst of the association of world civilization. This cultural heritage has also provided the superior thinking of the people of Indonesia who gave birth to it. The tradition of carving palm leaves in Indonesia has a long history and old age along with the values of history, religion, philosophy, medicine, literature, and other high sciences.

Speaking about incising on palm leaf media, before the discovery of paper, history knows several media used as documentation and communication tools, one of which is documentation and communication with palm leaves. Documentation and communication with palm leaves are popularly used by people in several regions in Indonesia, such as Java, Bali, Lombok, Nusa Tenggara. In the past, palm leaves were often used to write saga, customary rules, and historical records, correspondence with neighboring countries, not only documentation and communication in written form, but not infrequently the documentation and communication were in the form of illustrated images on palm leaves, Illustrated pictures on palm leaves are called Prasi art.

Prasi is an illustration made on palm leaves with a technique to injure palm leaves using a special knife so that it leaves strokes resulting from concepts, ideas and ideas from ancient times until now (Suwidja, 1979: 4). Prasi who has been famous for puppet-themed stories, such as Mahabrata, Arjuna Wiwaha, and others. But in my work I try to apply something new, But now I present the other side of the prasi art itself, the way I present the other side of the prasi art itself is that I try to expand the theme of the prasi art with stories with a Christian nuance, this is the story of the life journey of the Lord Jesus who is always used in the Rosary Prayer , which I visualize with an artistic style I myself with nicks technique on palm leaf media.

Photo of the Work Negotiable Crowd

My work is derived from my view of the behavior of many people who often underestimate the negotiations with health recommendations during COVID19 made by the government, in addition to not wearing masks, behavior in making the crowd participate in negotiations. Back again with the excuse of being bored at home, longing with friends, and others. Of course this could actually worsen and increase COVID19 cases. In my work, I illustrate this situation by making a lot of characters clustered but there is a child who is wrapped in snakes and the clustered characters do not care for the child, it illustrates the current situation where there are a lot of people created, but in a crowd it seldom thinks about how the situation was during COVID19.

Photo of the Work Chat Sale

My work is intended to convey a message to the public about the importance of selling off chat. Starting with my vision of current talks, I was often still confined and entangled in unclear rules and benefited one of the parties, so that the rights of some people from certain circles felt difficult and were afraid to express their aspirations which became anxiety they will one thing, because of the unclear rules.

In my work, I use several types of paper that I draw with pens and watercolors, then I scissor and stick them on a worksheet, then I contour the edges of the picture with yellow watercolors.

Photo of the Work Virus Chatter Sale

The topic of today’s discussion cannot be separated from the discussion about COVID19, this is a chat that can be sold anywhere in the present, from where I first got the idea to work, a situation where many elements began to be centered and confined to a virus.

In my work, it is made in the form of panels and I use used cardboard as a medium, which I base it with paint before I start drawing it, on the edges of the cardboard I deliberately peel a portion of the cardboard, in addition to giving rise to and appearing the distinctive parts of each cardboard namely in the bumpy part, I also intend to provide an overview of the current situation, where the current situation has begun to be centered and confined to the virus.

Photo of the Work Switch Function

(Parents are symbolized as rulers, Children as communities, and Snakes as honey but actually poison)

In this work I tell about how the attitudes and nature of the authorities who abuse the office, where the rulers from time to time continue to produce sweet promises such as honey in order to smooth their way and purpose, but people do not know it is actually a poison that will miserable them. So that the sense of humanity, love, and freedom to obtain health, education, employment, etc. that has been promised has become very unlikely to be realized. It is the attitude and nature of these rulers that makes social problems such as racial, ethnic, religious and cultural differences that continue to the present day, if this continues, humanity, love, and freedom are merely illusions.

Photo of the Work I’m Depressed

Looking at the present house, which from time to time in this era, the house is like a prison that has someone to live and is bound by rules that sound like making it up and not making sense. So many people choose to run away from home and leave the house full of pressure. The work that I created is intended to convey the feelings of people who feel like a prison house and I present these feelings in a visual form, with a work entitled “I’m Depressed”.

Photo of the Work I’m Starting to be Spotted

Seeing the chaotic and uncontrolled atmosphere of the world today, many losses incurred both from the economic sector, culture, religion, education, and others. COVID19 really makes the condition more and more negative spices continue to enter the human mind, so that among others, now often spread excessive fears, one of these fears is the abnormal number of victims of COVID19 continues to be questioned and become questionable and become debate in various circles. Should fatalities also become a material in this chaotic situation. If the COVID19 period has ended and in the future, in the new era, will the nature and attitude in playing with the number of victims in a disaster be applied as well?

It is through my work that I try to visualize the event, by describing some human beings who continue to provide negativity spices on something that has died. The work that I created is aimed at conveying the feelings of people whose feelings are disturbed and spiced by negative herbs into their minds and I present these feelings in a visual form, with a work entitled ” I’m Starting To Be Spotted”.


Yohanes Soubirius De Santo

The Blind Stitch – Poem by Khadhiyya Simany

It’s the Little Things

Khadhiyya Simany takes us into the story of how the mending of a special shirt can bring solace. Take a moment this evening to appreciate this engaging poem.

The blind stitch 

My favourite shirt hanged with a sad tear 

Unfortunately my tailor and I are locked apart 

Not that i need to wear it now, soon I hoped 

But it is my favourite shirt 

The white lines on the blue material 

Almost shadows the tear to the point of invisible 

Still it sits there, questioning my sewing skills 

I had no clue if I had needle or thread for this 

So I took to task, a new assignment 

I hear my mom laugh, encouraging it is 

Dear Lord! The eye of the needle 

This thread needs to loosen weight 

Finally happy at my first victory 

I poked the eye and the thread now sits 

My hands unsure on the grip 

Is it the bottom? middle or tip on the needle I hold 

I did not want to ruin my shirt 

Than no longer would it be my favourite 

Now the stitch talks to me in alien language 

Running, Catch, Whip, Blanket, Back and Slip 

OH! All I needed was the blind stich 

To which I was numb with uncordinated skills 

The battle between me, the needle and my shirt 

Made the war cry, this I cannot go wrong 

The world on lock down ,that I cannot help 

Yet this battle will play on my tunes 

Happy with my amateur skills 

My favourite shirt glorified and I beamed on my little win 


Khadhiyya . Simany