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Taken from (https://mymodernmet.com/guggenheim-museums-100000-room/)

There’s no formula to doing the wrong thing the right way. I’ve played every scenario, every possibility and every outcome out in my head.

The prestige blueprints of the building, the fresh cotton smell of the balaclava and the virginity of the trigger. She temps you within that space between your index and groove.

My auntie told me you can be a professional in any field. So, I became a professional bank robber. My teachers taught me to chase my passion and not the money. This life isn’t for everyone. Only the greats will experience the ecstasy of the risk without a care for the prize.

Some would say I’m morally corrupt for finding pleasure in crime. A mistake or a purpose? Although there’s enjoyment in a heist; what good is a room full of cash when your heart is filled with guilt?

Published by AdHoc Fiction, 24/10/2019.

You can now view this story as well as other short-stories in my collection 'Kapav Garcon, Kapav Zaco' here.

Taken from (https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/348888302381129696/)

In an era where image is the focus of society, I stay hidden. My face is my identity, my face isn’t for your entertainment and amusement. My face is I and I stay masked.

I know what you’re thinking; you’re thinking I’m a risk to society. Breathing under my surgical face mask as an exchange student. Hiding under my balaclava from the dangers of council estates. Protected under my niqab from the bigots that judge without learning about devotion.

You won’t exploit me for the greed of your eyes. Don’t fear the unknown, embrace the chance to learn. I may seem foreign to your norm, but the simple fact that I am not like you enables this society to be wide and vast in diversity.

‘Be diverse, be open.’

Published by AdHoc Fiction. , 09/10/2019.

You can now view this story as well as other short-stories in my collection 'Kapav Garcon, Kapav Zaco' here.

Taken from (https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/131659989081789063)

Those winter nights when the air is thin enough for your breath to be seen. When the birds wallow amongst the leaves in the trees from the rain. Those are the nights when your body isn’t visible; but why would it be revealed in the strident cold?

I’d work hard all day and come to bed on this bale of hay waiting for you. The warmth of my gaze could be seen thousands of miles away; I’d burn impatiently waiting for you to join me. Your silk night sky cloaks your lunar shoulders, but most evenings you seduce me to your call by uncovering your light.

Why do you deceive my heart when your distance is so great to travel? Why do you give me light when your darkness is what I need for closure?

Why won’t you let me sleep?

Published by AdHoc Fiction. , 02/10/2019.

You can now view this story as well as other short-stories in my collection 'Kapav Garcon, Kapav Zaco' here.