Gladys Kay Sidorenko
Bio
A dreamer and a writer who finds meaning in stories grounded in truth and centuries of history.
Writing is my world. Tales born from the soul. I’m simply a storyteller.
Stories (7)
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The Taste of Invisible.
Have you ever felt different — almost as though you didn’t quite belong where you were? Sometimes, it’s not the drastic moments but the subtle shifts you notice. The small silences. The glances that linger a second too long. The way people’s voices soften when they speak to you, or how their laughter dims the moment you draw near.
By Gladys Kay Sidorenko3 months ago in Humans
Only a Thread Among Us All.
The people seen on the streets — the ones called homeless — were not always so. Once, they had homes to return to, beds that remembered their warmth, and lives that unfolded in familiar rhythms. They laughed, planned, and dreamt, just like anyone else.
By Gladys Kay Sidorenko3 months ago in Humans
A World Apart.
Aziza stood in the garden of her mother’s ancestral home. Humid air thick with hibiscus and frangipani clung to her skin. Gravel crunched under servants’ careful steps, baskets of laundry and trays of fruit balanced expertly in their arms. Whitewashed walls glowed in the late sun; balconies draped with bougainvillea brushing against carved stone. Bees darted through the blooms; a bird’s sharp cry cut the courtyard murmur.
By Gladys Kay Sidorenko3 months ago in Chapters
A World Apart
Aziza leaned against the doorway, watching the familiar chaos unfold around her like a favourite play rehearsed a hundred times. Her mother, Helen, glided through the hall with the elegance of a queen, her silk scarf trailing behind her like a banner. “Samuel, the passports—where are they? I won’t have us stranded at Heathrow because you think jokes are luggage,” she scolded, though her lips curved with affection.
By Gladys Kay Sidorenko3 months ago in Chapters
When the Mirror Learns to Speak.
When you’re little and start showing signs of adolescence, it’s both a shy and awakening stage. You don’t quite know who you’re becoming yet — you’re caught between childhood and womanhood, between wanting to be invisible and wanting to be understood. If you have a caring family, that transition feels easier, almost gentle. They guide you through it without judgement. But when your family is the type that points and questions, conforming becomes a way of survival.
By Gladys Kay Sidorenko3 months ago in Confessions
When Being Seen Feels Like Breathing
There are days I feel as though I only exist when someone says, “You did well.” When someone notices my effort, something inside me lights up — I feel alive, like I finally matter. But when there’s silence, I start to shrink. I feel invisible, as though everything I do has quietly lost its meaning.
By Gladys Kay Sidorenko3 months ago in Humans
Who Are You
I am three things. And maybe more. I teach. There’s nothing like the moment a student’s eyes light up — confusion giving way to understanding, that spark that tells you something has clicked. Mathematics isn’t impossible. It’s a key, and I just help open the door. I’ve seen students sit quietly, heads bent, unsure if they’ll ever get it. And then, suddenly, they do. Their smile says more than words ever could. That’s why I teach — because guiding someone to see what they couldn’t before is like handing them a small piece of light. Teaching gives me purpose. It humbles me. It reminds me that patience builds confidence and that learning, no matter how small, is always a victory worth celebrating.
By Gladys Kay Sidorenko3 months ago in Confessions
