We often understand stories that have a beginning, middle, and an end. A coherent trajectory of personal triumph, growth and sacrifice,...

Ah, my friend, you do not know, you do not know What life is, you who hold it in your hands Spathiphyllum or peace lilies are evergreen...

I'm still working on it. But each day, the sun still rises. Each day, I blur lines between a beginning, middle, and end. Each day I exist. F

I’ve realised I’ve been building a life, just not the one I really wanted for myself. I wanted to be a writer, poet, researcher, teacher, ac

We have grown accustomed to the distance, the silence forgotten until birthday cards are sent in the mail.

Before empathy, there exists imagination. Imagine if I were a person like you, would that anger you?