10 Years of Blogging and Being Here.

I WAS 17, typing away from my desktop computer in my room from 7 pm to 3 am, non-stop. The fan was blowing to keep the CPU from overheating. We didn’t have an air conditioning unit back then. I typed letters

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How To Love.

Love by knowing that everything is temporary. Love by knowing that it will not last forever. Love by knowing that it could be the first and the last, the best and the worst, the only one or

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Why I Write.

I write because sometimes it’s just too complicated to tell everything to anyone. I write because in my darkest days, I do not even feel like seeing anyone–let alone talking to them. I write because I

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Stepping Up To My Plate.

It was late afternoon, and we were sitting at a nook in our Parisian hotel room, looking at a wall fully decorated with beautiful painted plates. “I’m going to eat on that one,” I pointed at a

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Flow.

Dear H, On Friday, I met a dear friend, and I told her how good things seemed to flow into my direction very easily lately. I am thankful for that, of course, because a year ago

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