Think of those people. The ones you hate. The ones that call themselves blessed because everything in their life is beautiful. You don't dislike them because their lives are perfect. No, it is because their lives have always been so, and the foreseeable future promises them the same beautiful now. Think of them. The ones you hate. The ones that call themselves blessed despite everything in their life breaking apart. And you wonder why they do not accept the broken, and you wi

The Museum of Disappearing Sounds. Zoë Skoulding (Seren, Poetry Wales Press, 2013); Paperback; £8.99 This crashes around the skull. It whispers and it wails. It is the sound we hear when the space around us is silent. Recently shortlisted for the Ted Hughes award, Zoë Skoulding's The Museum of Disappearing Sounds explores the notion of sound as a codependent relationship between a reader's external and internal ear. The Museum of Disappearing Sounds is an intimate collection

when you read: listen to Juliet's Dream by Abel Korzeniowski. "Love is like dried flowers sometimes. Even though you watch the petals shrink and change colour, you cannot help treasuring them." ~ Munia Khan, author of 'Beyond The Vernal Mind,' 'To Evince The Blue,' and 'Versified.' Today is the first day of Lent, and I am already at a loss. I am thinking about all the things I have lost, and I am thinking about all the things I am ready to lose, and I am thinking about love.

When it comes to art & ink, there are hundred of writing utensils to choose from. I cannot begin to count the brands I have chosen over the years; and, between all those fine-tipped, thick-stroked pens, I have finally narrowed down the list to my few favourite. I tend to carry these around with me, and that way, all my note-taking, journaling, schedule-planning, budgeting, book-editing tasks are completed in the same style and size. Although a range of different colours, ink

I have always loved shoes. Little miss shoes. That's what my great grandfather used to call me. I would wear those little, red sparkles all the way to Oz and back---as if they were my wonderland-staple. But that was when I was five, and now, fifteen years later, I am sorting through my wardrobe with the interest to see which shoes have been---and remain---my choice for any occasions. I'm sure we all have preferences, but I know I've learned that football cleats don't necessar

I’m twenty days late for a New Years’ post, but rereading old resolutions has led me to believe reflection comes in two waves, crashing over and over again. When I was a little girl, I lived on the other side of the world by the beach. There, my father used to take me surfing on special occasions. You’ve got to ride the right wave otherwise you end up upside-down underneath the surface with salt water in mouth and mind. but if the wave is not strong enough, then the board wil

It is wonderful to sit before you. I wish you a beautiful good-morning, good-evening, good-afternoon. It's that in-between, dusky-rainy kind of day outside. I just woke up so i'm finishing my coffee as I write at my desk. someday, i'll show you, if you'd like to see? for now, i'll just say that this desk is the most inspiringdistracting place to study, especially in the morning. Look up. See all the postcards & old photographs, quotes & fairy lights, ticket stubs from orchest