Your grief will never go away. A moment: an hour, a week, a month, a year, a decade. Time passes. You think it gets better. You climb up mountains full of knives and stacked with ghosts, and you think, there I’ve made it. You think you’ve conquered the grief, wrestled the demon and broken its […]Read more "Monsters"
Like squirrels, we sometimes stash our histories and tragedies in little fragments and corners of the world, and then promptly forget about them. Little glimpses: words and pictures, smells and sounds. Above:from the instarchives, 53 weeks ago Below: from the instapost one day ago Last evening , as I stepped off the bus home, one […]Read more "Slivers, Skies & Sandwiches"
So why do you like her? Obvious as it sounds this was a question that used to stump me quite a good bit whenever I was in a relationship. I remember the earliest answer I generated, when someone asked me this question about my first girlfriend. With nearly a decade since of hindsight, I realise […]Read more "Songs & Sentences"
You must be a long time ago. So strange, isn’t it, that they give the same words to things that mean so differently, to colours that contrast, but cannot conjoin. Because the sky isn’t the same at midnight as it is at midday, because silky is a texture that is not the same as sapphire. […]Read more "Blue"
I suppose you were expecting a Valentine’s Day post from me. As is probably apparent, now that the occasion has been deceased for nearly twenty-four hours, I don’t have one. If you have known me longer, perhaps you would be a tad disappointed. I have a history of adopting seemingly ‘anti-establishment’ positions, especially on social […]Read more "Love after Love"
(Singapore: 7.41am) Good morning, good morning, good morning, sings the unexpected trolley I don’t exactly understand her,but Then again, we should all Keep space in our hearts And light in our heads And songs in our souls for a good morning, good morning, good morningRead more "The Unexpected Trolley"
I believe there is virtue in vulnerability The ability to open, and open again The way the mouth must, in order for us To nourish ourselves, to make and re-make And yet what must it be like, To carry so much upon your Self: To bear a Galaxy glowing in your pocket To hold a […]Read more "Mouth"