You’ve been urging me to put my thoughts into words, and I felt adrift—at least, that’s what I believed. Then my younger brother came to stay for the summer. He has this quirky routine of bathing whenever he feels even slightly grimy, sometimes two or three times a day. Curious, I asked him why, and he replied it makes him feel rejuvenated. I can’t quite relate; on some days, I’m too lazy to shower a second time. After a long day at work, I often just want to collapse into bed.

His answer, though, hit me with a wave of nostalgia, and suddenly I knew why I couldn't write. Loving you is like those carefree childhood evenings when I’d bathe, then settle in front of the TV to watch Mr Bean on Pogo, savouring the mangoes my father had brought home. Those were the moments when nothing else mattered, and the days felt infinite. I realise now that I fell for you, not as a writer, but as a child.

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MY GODDESS

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Speaking of tyrants

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— % &


















— % &

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I Beg to
Disagree

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Great
Sadness

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Futile Devices

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