The agony of separation
Choosing to live away from parents versus being forced to live away from them
Second hand books, first hand stories
Getting to know my late grandfather, through his book collection Last weekend, I decided to wander in my neighbourhood, with only one agenda. Find myself a corner to read along with some breakfast. As I climbed up the hill in
Being perfectly imperfect — Part 1
Childhood lessons in the casteism of perfection Google images“Mariyam has scars on every corner of her face. Count, and tell us how many are there?.. How did you get that scar at the bridge of your nose?.. Oh god, your
Stars in the water, stars in the sky
In search for the brightest one I used to believe in heavenly skies, with their stars and constellations, for me to gaze. I used to crave to sleep under their watchful eyes, as my grandmother would deck up the courtyard
Anxiety, a faith
My journey from being an atheist to a believer “I don’t know how to revel in happiness. In success. I get too scared thinking, what if things turn around bad tomorrow,” said a friend over a call last week. We
Living with a cancer afflicted parent — A Series — Part 45
Growing up and growing old Google Images“Will you discuss with your manager, the dates of your visit?”, Dad messaged me one Friday morning, while I was in office. “Haven’t yet. Probably, tomorrow,” I replied. “I think it’s better you complete
Understanding life through a cook book
Julie and Julia (2009) On a cloudy Sunday morning, I woke up thinking about going to one of Hong Kong’s famous wet markets to purchase a few vegetables for the week. Living in South East Asia for more than two
Living with a cancer afflicted parent — A Series — Part 44
Away from home and searching for one Sunset at Victoria Harbour. Hong Kong. Personal collection.“Do you feel at home?,” my new flatmate asked me last night. As I was cleaning the kitchen counter, she sprang the question out of nowhere.
The love of being away
Personal archive. Hong Kong.The whistling winds by my window, the smoothness of their ice. The greying of those structures around me, through the darkening of the skies. They speak to me freedom. Speak to me life. It is lonely, as my
