不知老之将至… No one knows when old age will come… water calligraphy disappearing with every step, the futility of trying to capture time as it evaporates. like youth. Dust leaves no trace of this foolish life lived in constant preparation … Continue reading
the survival of a place we once called home cannot preserve within it the relationships that once made this a place to begin with. despite the emotional attachments formed, the preservation of physical remains cannot safeguard the values, ideals and … Continue reading
08.08.18 My yehyeh (grandfather) used to own an electrical shop filled with wonders. He passed away three years ago, but I imagine his green van is still rumbling along, up there, somewhere. I write so that I won’t forget, but … Continue reading
What is it about an idea that withstands the noise of time? Julian Barnes posits that it is ‘only that music which is inside ourselves – the music of our being – which…over the decades, if it is strong and … Continue reading
08 March 2018
#TheRebelDaughters
Disavow paternalistic expectations
Writing ourselves through place
Rewriting narratives of place as women
Unraveling constructs of self
Until we understand these differences
as ways of living together.
8 paper cranes
Torn away from the gender expectations of glossy magazines.
8 wishes for hope and healing
Left on the tube, at tube stations and around Parsons Green*, London.
*Note: Parsons Green tube station was the site of a terrorist attack and a stabbing last year.
#reimagineplaces
Dragonbreath sunsets
Craggy rocks submerged in the shipwrecked water
‘The people we were aren’t always the people we become’ (VanDerWerff 2017)
That may be disappointing,
but it also means we’re not bound by our past.
Living on with that knowledge is both powerful
and humbling.
The hermit crab rolls another grey ball of sand out from its hole
onto the shore. And I know that when I return, next year,
it will still be there,
rolling, still.
That which was built yesterday will be washed away
with forgetting.
Another journey is about to begin.
I must learn to begin, again.
I don’t know where it will lead, but
not knowing is a part of attending to
possible
beginnings.
A small bird skips across the muddy sand as
jazz lullabies play from the radio of a car.
You are 38. I am 5. Some memories remain vivid: The smell of lavender powder Mom cutting your moustache in the living room. You’re sitting on my plastic yellow chair holding a newspaper under your chin. Motorcycle rides around Toa … Continue reading
a moving-thinking along.
Listening to the silence and how it speaks.
Being there, when words are
a stuttering through
an imperfect language that only fumbles towards the possibilities
I’m trying to hold on to.
Sometimes one word shuts out all alternatives.
1.
Before night was born
Sweltering sun burns shoulders
Five seconds to fall
2.
Last sunrise this year
Melancholy monsoon toes
Robots learn to sigh
3.
One second too late
Chaotic lines wrinkle tears
Pebble kissing sand
A cupboard full of curious shells each one a voice from a distant shore You put one to my ear and told me I would hear the sea. A gazillion coin tricks ok…maybe more like 5 or 7. You’d rub … Continue reading
one:lab 