i've never had so many heart-melting moments cramped into each passing day...i'm convinced about the want; it's not me fucking my own brains out. i'm only skeptical about how long this will last.

my heart aches a little more now that the sound of finality has been rung. you left me 2 weeks ago. i left you 24 hours ago. you will leave me a week later. but we were gone a month before. this precipitable state of transition. for the first time, i don't feel like being by myself. i want to be cold but i miss the taste of warmth. between us, there are no objectives, no assumptions, no demands.

Skin and bones

i am constantly fascinated by the body. most of my essays are about the symbolic and literal functions of the body in literature. i love designing clothes and understanding how a garment mediates between the body and its surroundings. but i find it especially laughable when someone compliments me on my body. i'm not entirely comfortable with my body. my sexuality is something that was conferred upon me, without my full consent. almost like an object, a spectacle, a key aspect of a performative identity, something i'm not in full control of. the physical world eludes me. the body as a concrete representation of one's self is therefore something that equally befuddles me. i realized this when you held me, the tingling touch, my mind fights against it.

The Prosaic Shop

The Prosaic Shop is nearly a year old! Although I earn peanuts from this, but making postcards, illustrations and bags as a side job is pretty damn fun and the recognition (albeit minimal) is pretty damn satisfying.

www.prosaicshop.wordpress.com