Sometimes, in the drama and minutiae of life, it’s easy to forget what’s really important.
There’s something about familial flavours that makes a mum-cooked meal taste unlike any other.
I marvel at the sheer exuberance of it, the audacity of taking up so much space with so much beauty.
A train journey, out of the city. I sit near a window to catch the mid-morning sun. I watch as the urban concrete is gradually replaced by rolling green.
I love it when I get to have a deep, heartfelt conversation that not only reminds me what’s important in life but helps me put it into words. Happy words. Happy days.