One breath. Then another. (snippets to get you through the day)

  What others think of you is not your business. Focusing on others is a colossal waste of perfectly good energy. Train yourself to love without receipts. No matter how easy it is, desist from cruelty. Your ability to be gentle will always be your most attractive feature. If someone tells you that you’re too…

Book Review: The Miniaturist by Jessie Burton (spoiler alert)

The Miniaturist by Jessie Burton My rating: 3 of 5 stars “Every woman is the architect of her own fortune.” – says the miniaturist in a mysterious note. How true. For I designed myself to read this book, take it into my home and heart, only to feel utterly let down. Jessie Burton’s The Miniaturist…

Dirty love and watermelons

There is only one way to eat watermelons: like you love – with abandon. “I’ll share my watermelon with you and only you. That sounds dirty but my God I like it.” No forks then, no knives, and no spoons. Bare hands eating. Only then. And only if. “Any other way to eat watermelon is…

Book Review: Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert

Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert My rating: 5 of 5 stars Quite honestly I don’t know how you could give this book a rating of anything less than five stars. It is a classic and deservedly so. For there are very few books that can match the intricacy and insight into human behaviour as the…

Sext – One

Every pore of me opens, like spring happening to flowers, in the anticipation of your skin meeting mine. I am wet and parched. I am hard and the softest ever. I am all blood, bone, and muscle, and flesh, and flesh. Sink into me. Straddle my hips. Push your sex into my sex the way…

How can you not return?

  Isn’t it just the truth that the places you ought to stay away from are the places you have loved the best? Ancient ruins, abandoned forts, haunted houses, and people. Some places you simply must not return to. Yet, return you do. It’s an itch you need to scratch. A boil that beseeches a…

All the world’s words are yours.

There are some words I never want to hear again. This is one of them.  This word is you. This word spells your name, only in different letters. Letters that belong to an alphabet of a language I do not speak anymore because the only other speaker no longer speaks to me. It is a dead…

Hypnagogia

It is the middle of the night in a week in the middle of winter. The dark is darker here. The cold is no stranger but that does not offer warmth. Dense fog settles itself over the crop, its booted feet stepping gingerly over the hibernating soil and bare tree branches. There is a field….

Quarantine

Protect the softest parts of you. The parts that look like hide but are as tender as kitten paws not yet touched the earth. Protect all the tired people in you. The ones who sigh, unable to bear another day. Who look too eagerly toward the ends of things. For whom, to be unseen and unremembered…