7h agoOh, to be king! writes Karin Brynard
It was such a good game when we were little, Karin Brynard muses. But what if we could make it true?
Karin Brynard writes: When sweet sleep abandons you
Lying awake at night, desperately counting sheep, you totally get why sleep deprivation is such an effective tool for torture, writes...
Could it be, muses Karin Brynard, that the social kiss will soon be extinct?
In these times of plague and pestilence, it might just come to pass.
Karin Brynard writes: A song for trees
And suddenly autumn is coming. It is a golden season, writes Karin Brynard, when a single tree can touch your soul and fill you with...
Karin Brynard writes: The wings of angels
As a child, she wanted to know everything about angels, writes Karin Brynard. And now... perhaps she knows enough.
Karin Brynard writes: No pain, no gain
Is it vanity or masochism, wonders Karin Brynard, that drives one back to the sweaty trenches in the gym every new year?
Karin Brynard writes: Christmas and a sermon without words
This time every year, one’s life becomes a hectic rush towards the festive deadline, writes Karin Brynard. And quiet rest becomes the...
Karin Brynard writes: The sock eater
A Bible-loving dog gives Karin Brynard food for thought on the sinners and saints among man’s best friend.
Fly off into the light
One day we will know freedom again, writes Karin Brynard. Just like the birds…
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