GLADY MWENDE Every Thursday at noon, she sits alone in a park eating deep-fried pork sau- sages watching people pass by. It helps her lessen the burden she carries in her heart, unsaid words, untold stories. She keeps wondering if things would have ever turned out differently if she ever said something to someone, any- one. Now and then, a passer-by would notice her distant stare and would reach out to ask her if she’s okay. Struggling to recollect herself, with a low unsure voice Glady Mwende is a writer, thespian and and a crooked smile she’d answer. “I am fine.” So they would walk away. Filmmaker based in Nairobi, Kenya. She Memories come flooding in, shadows of her past creeping on her present. She enjoys creating stories, inspired by curses the day she met her husband. Sharp stabbing pains cut across her people from all walks of life. chest whenever she remembers him. His brown eyes were always filled with Her intention with her work is to tell the subtle fury and distant warmness. How his muscles formed when he held her untold and show the beauty of life and all tightly. How on his good days, he would pin her on the wall and make love to that t comes with, through her art. her, the kind she liked. He would choke her a little as he held her waist on his, gently thrusting, whispering how much he loved her. He would cook for her and they would even take showers together. On his good days, he was a man she always knew. She smiles hiding her teary eyes. She is suddenly disgusted when she remembers his bad days, which were most days. He beat her up mercilessly like a stray dog. The times he made her feel like the ugliest crea- 50nd3k4 322 50nd3k4 323 50nd3k4 322 50nd3k4 323