two things

the nonchalance of childhood affection and the wonder of fruits

this week’s Thought (singular)

no thoughts, just the euphoria of writing thodi again. two weeks is too long a time to stay away

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a very warm welcome to all new readers. i love new readers so much that whenever i get an email about a new reader, i manifest that they get such an incredible haircut that it permanently alters the way they perceive themselves. thank you for joining us. may you not be able to look away from your reflection in awe of how good your hair looks now.

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hi

hi!! i feel like i’m returning after a very long voyage at sea, when, really, it’s only been a week without this newsletter. i hadn’t realised how important a part of my schedule it had become, and how much i look forward to writing it regularly. i hope you have all been well, and dealing with the august-ness of august the best you can.

this week, i’d like to discuss two conversations i recently had. one is to do with fruits, and the other is to do with middle school birthday gifts. both are to do with unthinking beauty, and the lovely carelessness of care.

a dear friend and i were discussing the marvel of fruits over a box of fruit salad at the end of a very wholesome day. the salad had pieces of watermelon, pineapple, pink guava, and orange. briefly glossing over the absolutely euphoric and calming experience of sharing a box of cut fruits with your friend, she said something that stuck with me. something about how incredible it is that fruits just exist like that, that they’re created in nature tasting so sweet and meaning to be eaten and being healthy to boot. it was such a poignant thought, that without any intervention, without any real intent, something so lovely exists. it’s innate nature is to be…good.

two close friends and i were recently reminiscing about the gifts we’d give each other on our birthdays in middle school. for one girl, we wrote compliments on ice cream sticks that she could pull out and read. for another, there were bookmarks with printouts of her favourite One Direction member on them. i remember getting a gift-wrapped box filled with chits containing lovely messages, a marauder’s map made with coffee paper, a crocheted patch of the logo of my favourite band back then. i keep all the gifts in a box in my draw. all paper and fabric, faded writing in glitter pen and disintegrating tiny cardboard boxes with satin ribbon. all handmade, all so creative, all planned out for weeks in advance without a thought to the effort, the time, the cost. while discussing this, my friend, in a striking moment of relatability and sisterhood, said that if she got a gift like that now, she’d probably cry. we spoke about how this kind of care and love was so nonchalant and unthinking, how it was so normal and light to spend hours planning and making something from scratch for somebody you love.

i leave you with this lovely tumblr post -

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English Recitation Competition

1. The Splendid Body, Rebecca Lindenberg

   It knows it can’t exist forever, so 
   it’s collecting as many flavors as it can— 
   saffron, rainwater, fish-skin, chive. 
   Do not distract it from its purpose, 
   which is to feel everything it can find.
   

2. Poem, Sandra Lim

   Whenever I feel loss or lack, I imagine  
   The wind roaming outside of my childhood’s lair 
   —as I am a child again, with my red knapsack  
   bouncing lightly on my back—  
   Beckoning me to run to it, into its slurry white expanse . . .
   And in my heart, I am already on my way  
   To some thrilling future  
   Which is not yet weak and diluted with a lonely pain. 
   There, I am someone who wishes to be  
   An exception and I am. A third and ringing note  
   Edges the banal alternatives of  
   Yes, and No. A lyric possibility rises  
   Everywhere and at once, a thousand roses—allusive, corrosive. 
   Think how much you must change. Even more than you dare.
   

3. In the House With No Doors, Sarah Kay

   Someone is doing a load of laundry, 
   if anyone wants to add some extra socks? 
   Someone is clearing the dishes,  
   someone has started singing Gershwin in the backyard  
   and you can’t help but harmonize, 
   and for a moment what you always hoped was true 
   finally is: loneliness has forgotten your address, 
   french toast browning on the stovetop, 
   the sound of everyone you love 
   clear as the sun giggling through the window, 
   not even a doorknob between you.
   

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A Picture!

pretty flowers my mother and i spotted on an afternoon walk one day

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this week’s Song

Ride of the Valkyries (The Watchmen) by London Symphony Orchestra

find all shared songs here.

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thank you for reading, and see you next-to-next week <3

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yes? no? maybe? let me know!