• Not a book review: Wuthering Heights

    I very rarely read books because of peer pressure or their popularity. But there are times, like the release of Emerald Fennell’s Wuthering Heights, that just propel you to make decisions you wouldn’t otherwise. Where the discourse on the book, the adaptation and creative licence compel you to read the book; just so you can…

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  • Through the valleys, I flow

    I was born a man but I knew, even before I turned seven, that my body was wrong. I did not have the vocabulary to explain what was happening to me so I became an artist. I would use reds, browns and blacks to create silhouettes. There were grooves and curves but only I knew…

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  • Unknowable truth

    Unknowable truth

    I feel a lot of things. None of them makes sense. When I was a little girl, I could spend hours with myself, looking at anything that had caught my attention. I used to love loud prints, colours and chaos because there were so many things to look at. There were so many stories to…

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  • From Two to Three

    From Two to Three

    It is strange, how and where stories begin. You would think my story begins the moment I was born. You would think: but there had to be two people, even before my birth, who thought about bringing me into the world. And you would be right.

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  • Reading tales: The Stormlight Archive

    I have now finished the behemoth task of reading The Stormlight Archive: 5 books, more than 5000 pages. And I was informed that the fifth book which is a little over 1300 pages is more of an interlude than a book? Only Brandon Sanderson would write 1300 pages as an interlude.

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  • Rare flowers

    Rare flowers

    It is a glorious winter morning, the kind that you no longer see in the world. The sky is light but you can see the moon and the stars. There is a special quality of winter morning that I miss: the air is cold but I am sleep warm. Everything feels clear, even my mind.…

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  • A quiet revelation

    A quiet revelation

    My reading this year has been the slowest since 2018, when the sight of how few books I had read led to a mini panic attack. I have been reading non-stop ever since but by November 2025, I burnt myself out so thoroughly that even the sight of my beloved Kindle made me feel queasy.

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