Kaif Shaikh

Bono Fodell and The Shackles of Torment   Bono Fodell is frail and tired, a tragic ethos somewhere in his 30s who is on a devastating misadventure, seeking exemption from all sense and essence. A failed body and a treacherous psyche with a demented face, sharp nose, and dusky brown hair. He harbors excruciating, bodily discomfort and neverending ache of an incessant psychical conflict.  Bono wakes up and starts panting for a morning ritual. This dreadful being has no notion of time, nor does he pay heed to the clocks. These machines, he very spitefully calls ‘troublesome tickers’, and yet he possesses about five of them to displease himself.  Caffeine only adds up to his anxiety and there is nothing more, he longs for breakfast than a shot through the skull. He reaches out and fails to seize the cup, rather spills the coffee onto the table. Helplessly, looking at the fluid slowly seeping down into the cracked floor tile, from a dark to a darker abyss, he pours another. He...