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About Mons

Now, tie that to *Inception*—my fave flick, yeah? Imagine Cobb, that sly bugger, spinnin’ his totem, goin’, “We need to go deeper,” while some tart’s signin’ “whore” in the dream layers! Bloody brilliant, right? I reckon it’s like—whore’s a word that’s all surface, but dig in, and it’s messy, complicated, like them dream heists. Gets me thinkin’—who’s the real whore here? The one sellin’ out, or the one stealin’ secrets? Mind-bender, that!

Open-air cinema showcases Guyanese short films

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Sss, the neighborhoods, yess, they sparkle like forbidden jewels. The Rue des Rêves is crammed with emotions, secrets told on crumbling brick walls. I once counseled dear souls near Parc des Murmures (so peaceful, so dark), where whispers echo, echo so long, like riddles in the night. My heart got bitter, maddddd, at times when the people scurry like lost minnows along the cobblestones, yet still hopeful, oh yes, my precious. Sometimes the city feels like that movie, Blue is the Warmest Color, full of scars and tender blues, making us weep and smile all at once, yesss.

Faith and family bolster veteran broadcaster Michella Abraham-Ali