(To accompany my words..) As I write this, it’s 9pm. It’s a Tuesday evening and I feel alert. Just a day from now, I’ll board a plane. For what has felt like far too long, I will go further than the mere hour to Auckland. A few more, to
Well, well, well. By all means, it has been a while. I’m not going to apologise for when I leave writing for yet another month, it’ll only feel redundant. I will say this: it hasn’t been a choice thing. I miss my little baby. I don’t know if you’ve noticed
I’ve been wanting to write a post for a while, and it’s called, Things You Won’t Remember When You Die. It’s not meant to sound as disastrously bleak and suicidal as it potentially does (to be fair, you could read it as a confirmation of life’s little value). Its bluntness
Roughly 3 weeks to a month ago, I confirmed I was coming back to writing for good. At this time, all I knew was how much I wanted to start again. But I’d made a promise without paying thought to how I would keep it. Unsurprisingly, I have not uttered
This Christmas I was gifted a whimsical journal titled ‘musings’ on the cover. For days of December I dated entries and placed small thoughts. I tied the turquoise bow and coupled it with New World receipts and travel pamphlets in my leather bag. Here it has stayed much of Summer.
Well, well, well. It would seem we’ve found ourselves in another year. Happy New Year everyone! Here’s hoping your celebrations were anything but dull. If you follow my Instagram, you’ll know I made it back to Auckland for family Christmas. I shoulder-hopped my way into the New Year once again
It is a wonder to discover that in a world so beguiled by self-image, we can still discern what it is to be truly beautiful. A word layered with endlessly more meaning than the likes of ‘hot’ and ‘sexy’, to relate it to self is far from media-inspired. Belief in
Last Thursday at 10.30am, I completed my first year at university. While it carried with it a sense of relief, The End docked with much less triumph than I imagined it would. It felt indefinite, unsure if this was the destination, if we’d even boarded the right ship. For weeks now,
I have come, perhaps with the age of false indestructibility, to fear little. In fact – and I don’t mean to begin on such a bleak note – I barely fear death. Sure, to fathom the pain scares me. The idea that I will not complete all I hope to
1. Melie’s Kitchen I remember when I was five and ‘cake time’ was a regularity, even an expectation of birthday parties. A fan or not, we all anticipated the moment for what it entailed. This, of course, was a multitude of things. In addition to a birthday wish, granted was permission
