Some dreams you wake from and immediately begin to forget. And then there are the other kind — the ones where you lie still after waking, afraid to move, afraid that moving will shake something loose...

After eighteen years of relocations, motherhood, caregiving, grief, and putting everyone else first, I began tracing the quiet thread back to myself — through writing, memory, and the parts of me that never fully disappeared...

A sunset so precious — the quiet gift of nature. Little we realise the sun stays, and it is the earth that moves. A short poem about light, time, and the promise of tomorrow...

A short poem about the distance between the person you are not and the one you are becoming...

When the lockdown began I sent my maid and nanny home with teary eyes, told myself it would not be long, and began the season of doing everything myself. Months later I discovered K-dramas — and something closer to restoration than I expected...

I believed in the straight line. Graduate, work, build, grow. Life had other ideas — and it took fifteen years of starting over across three countries to understand that the detours were never wasted...