The Double Standard of Time
Now, thirteen years later, this small white line makes me smile. This is the beauty of aging—each mark...
EXPLORING
Now, thirteen years later, this small white line makes me smile. This is the beauty of aging—each mark...
The moment I stopped complaining about turning forty was the moment I attended a funeral for someone who...
Now, thirteen years later, this small white line makes me smile. This is the beauty of aging—each mark...
With strangers, I’m patient and gentle. With family, I’m irritated by their slowness and frustrated by their forgetfulness....
I miss the version of myself who could write poetry without self-consciousness. The twenty-two-year-old who wrote fearless poetry...
With strangers, I’m patient and gentle. With family, I’m irritated by their slowness and frustrated by their forgetfulness....
Arash came to me crying about a nightmare, and I said what eleven-year-old me needed to hear. This...
We pay premium prices to endure conditions we’d never tolerate at home—yet feel more alive doing it. The...
Distance gives us permission to be different versions of ourselves. The openness that distance creates doesn’t have to...
The world is vast and I am small, and most of its beauty will unfold without me. Yet...