I remember Anne Hathaway was Shakespeare’s wife. I don’t remember what my mother said to me three days before she died. The conversation happened. I was there. She said something important—I remember knowing it was important at the time. But the actual words? Gone. Meanwhile, Anne Hathaway sits permanently filed in my brain, taking up
I destroy things when they get comfortable. Intense, then distant. With her. With work. With Arash. That cycle. But maybe staying with things, even when boring, is what matters most.
I have been singing “hold me closer, Tony Danza” for two decades. I had never heard of Tony Danza. The name meant nothing. Yet whenever that Elton John song came on—car, store, party—I sang those words.
I woke Happy. Told her to go to bed. I’ll stay through the night. Every time his breath paused, mine paused too. I watched him.
“We learned in school that we’re made from stars. Is that true?” he asked. Yes, I said. My son looked at his hand. We are made of stars and still we don’t know.
Happy was reorganizing the bookshelf again. I watched from the doorway as she pulled every book out, sorted them by size, then changed her mind and sorted by color. Our small Dhaka apartment was a testament to her need for order. Yet our best conversations never happened in this carefully maintained control and chaos—they happened when the power went out and we sat in the dark
The anti-aging industry sells war against time. What if anti-aging is the wrong goal? Choose pro-living over anti-aging culture.
I miss running without thinking about running. The magic has become machinery. But the machinery still works.
constant exhaustion not tired, brain fog depression anxiety, stuck in survival mode, performing normalcy exhausting, toxic productivity mental health, present moment awareness difficult, living intentionally vs autopilot
Our parents’ music is speaking to future versions of ourselves. This is music nostalgia psychology in practice: songs sit dormant in memory until life provides the key to unlock them. What seemed like abstract poetry at fifteen becomes documentary truth at thirty-nine.
Curated insights, thoughtfully delivered. No clutter.
