The Sweet Sound Of Basil

It must have felt woefully out of place

like the refugee placing a bowl of water safely

on his windowsill, front row seats

the spectacle: the moon reflects a stolen



Also peculiar, the soul whose words want

so badly, but don’t answer to the self-portrait of

kings, whilst these fingertips understandably

caress: the land cannot belong, the land longs to be



That’s how we became the gardener and his basil

green power in between

Our sound is loud and clearly

wickedly misplaced.


(My only son K, wrote this poem)


The Truth About Forever

“He wasn’t the type for displays of affection, either verbal or not. He was disgusted by couples that made out in the hallways between classes and got annoyed at even the slightest sappy moments in movies. But I knew he cared about me: he just conveyed it more subtly, as concise with expressing this emotion as he was with everything else. It was in the way he’d put his hand on the small of my back, for instance, or how he’d smile at me when I said something that surprised him. Once I might have wanted more, but I’d come around to his way of thinking in the time we’d been together. And we were together, all the time. So he didn’t have to prove how he felt about me. Like so much else, I should just know.”

― Sarah Dessen, 


Lessons On the Male Of The Species

I’ve read somewhere there are only three things to remember when it comes to men.

One: most men need to be told what to do by women. Even sex improves when women take the trouble to point the man in the right direction.

Two: compared with women, most men are inadequate. They are less perceptive, have little or no intuition, are poorer judges of character and, therefore, more vulnerable to criticism. They find aggression immensely intimidating because they are not supposed to and, in short, are by far the more sensitive of the two sexes.

Three: any man who does not conform to this pattern should be avoided. He will be a swaggering, uneducated brute whose intellect will be so small that the only way he can give himself a modicum of authority is by demeaning anyone foolish enough to put up with him, and, finally, he will lack the one thing that all decent men have in abundance, namely a deep and abiding admiration for women. 

I have yet to digest this content for so many reasons. Let me give you a few of those.

One: analyzing the opposite sex was and will never be my hobby. Let them be. If they don’t suit you, leave.

Two: my relationships with them were either too intense, too fleeting or too shallow to leave room for analyzing.

Three: I believe (I know that it says in the above article that most not all men and I’m aware that in every rule there is an exception/exemption) that there is no one size fits all kind of thing. Every situation, like everyone, is on its own unique. There is no general rule we could apply to all, therefore, assuming every male species is (somewhat) the same is I believe bordering on naivety. It is like saying  Men are from Mars and women from Venus. Reminds me of an article I wrote a while ago about Goddesses And Martians. Do read it if/when you have time to spare.

I think over/analyzing a relationship leads to nothing but trouble.

How about you people? One size fits all?


Wishful Thinking

“One day you wake up and you’re in this place. You’re in this place where everything feels right. Your heart is calm. Your soul is lit. Your thoughts are positive. Your vision is clear. You’re at peace, at peace with where you’ve been, at peace with what you’ve been through and at peace with where you’re headed.”


The Saddest Truth

“No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories.”
― Haruki Murakami

Isn’t it just? 

Though sometimes I wish I have or would develop an amnesia. Selective amnesia for that matter. But then again I thought: the past and my experience sum me up, they made me the person I am today, laughter, tears and pain included. They are lessons learned in a hard way and I wonder if without them I will be still that naive starry-eyed chick I once been. Would I be this knowledgeable, compassionate, emphatic, pragmatic if I never went through that ordeal? I guess not. I guess I just have to accept that:

 “My yesterdays walk with me. They keep step, they are gray faces that peer over my shoulder.” 
― William Golding

And I truly believe that the past is what makes me strong, keeping me in check and stopping me to fall victim to circumstances and abling me to view this life in a very sober manner and at the same time making me appreciative of the little miracles that come my way. So, I’d say shoulder on and be grateful for having those gray faces as companions.


Halfway In Between

“I have to admit, an unrequited love is so much better than a real one. I mean, it’s perfect… As long as something is never even started, you never have to worry about it ending. It has endless potential.”

This quote above reminds me of an episode when during the happiest, wildest, confusing, enjoyable painful saddest ride of my life when I was lost looking for my rainbow connection the captain ball of my basketball team refused despite his teammates urging him to put a stop to his shenanigans and properly court me so we could all move on (meaning if I turned down the guy the next in line can try his luck and if I accept him then they will know the chase is over and life can go back to normal) he said: “Why would I do that? This way, you can all wait forever and I will always be at the head of the queue.” He was seventeen, sweet and such a handful. I was thirty-one, looking like sixteen, daring and crazy like hell but has a decency and sense not to give in to temptation. Those were the days.