I am a compilation, put together meticulously with care over the slow passage of years, the deliberate consequence of a life both observed and lived. Mine is a curated existence, an anthology of experiments and impressions, collected and applied.
I am in a part you, you whoever has left lasting impact and taught me a valuable skill / emotion and lesson. Good or bad.
I cook noodles the way I overhead a café runner in Singapore, teaching the new line cook.
I listen to music curated from the taste of countless people, places and events in my life, a song here, a band there, recommendations and recollections. Happy times and sorrow. Borrowed emotions and stolen reveries. My eyes and ears an archive of world’s varied moods.
I learned unconditional kindness from a dulcet, soft spoken yet stern British girl, who believed in me, even for a heartbeat.
I make excellent coffee, after having watched countless hours of James Hoffman and replicating his coffee making witchcraft.
I write, the way I have read, and dread, that I will never be as good as those authors. But in small parts, in little pieces, I am happy with what I can achieve with words.
I am a mosaic, of everyone I’ve ever loved, of everyone’s who’s left an impression on me, whether tender or wounding.

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