slowly, this illness is releasing its grip on me. i sleep past eight most mornings, reliably scarf down three meals a day. sugar is once again a possibility. and oh, the wonders of homemade nut milk, alchemized into iced, caffeine-free lattes. i relish the fact that i...

think not of what you have lost but all you have gained.

my return to three solid meals a day. the ability to sit through my afternoon meditation without choking on air. gluten-free sourdough. homemade cocoa tahini spread, sweetened only by coconut flakes. the world of...

how about you take

a break from chasing your dreams

for a new york minute

and admire the gentle giant

ambling home from the dog park

peruse the follies of the world

in the economist

savour a mouthful

of ashy da hong pao

grounding force to the cloud

of yuzu and matcha before you


the air stole

the water i left

over the course of days

until nothing was left

but a ring of russet

residue of unfinished business

and in the end, does water not pour forth from the heavens

precisely when we are most parched?

even a few grains of sugar draws out the latent sweetness from the bitter, bringing to life a symphony of spices grounded by assam, a lush, earthy harmony.

i am the kind of tropical heat that renders the temperate feverish with unrequited longing. tongue numbed by eye of the bird, cheeks flushed with blood rising as if toward a magnet, i am a storm in your mouth that will leave you bracing.

the art of teasing out your deepest, darkest notes, taking you right to the edge of burning before extinguishing the heat, leaving you frozen at the peak of flavour.

for too long, i’ve been forced to shoulder burdens that weren’t mine to carry and now my body is aching for it. my upper back throbs in protest, stomach frozen, skin blemished by a ring of fire, days after the latest storm has passed. i don’t know what i can do except...

skin the colour of scorched earth

mind poised as the moon

someone who cleanses me like the ocean

shows me the beautiful and the sublime

when the night comes out to play

someone who makes me feel

like a wave breaking

who swallows darkness whole

doesn’t obey the rules of clean l...

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Bits and Bobs

Words that come to me as they will.

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