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Do not dwell

“Life is thickly sown with thorns, and I know no other remedy than to pass quickly through them. The longer we dwell on our misfortunes, the greater is their power to harm us.” – Voltaire

On tumultuous evenings like the ones that have come to tarry these past weeks, I seek solace in the works of Voltaire. Witty, satirical, and controversially blunt. If a person should have a favorite philosopher (nobody should be hard pressed to pick one), mine… will be him.

In search of my harbour, I can only pray that a better morning comes, unburdened and free.

Amelie Family Kids Theodore

We are English

This has been a lovely evening. The kids are sound asleep, my better half has committed his presence to a much needed boys’ night (for his sanity and mine), and I get some rare time to myself to read, rest and reminisce… and roll on the bed whichever direction because it’s ALLLL MINE. When you’re three kids in like me, you’ll learn to take whatever you can get 😉

It has been some time since the last entry, not because I haven’t been as inspired because that is just not true; yet to say I have been too busy living is then simply far-fetched. Perhaps finding my center again is more apt. There has been a bit of Bread and a lot of Queen in the past months. Add a spoonful of Mark Diamond to switch things up a little. And a whole lot of Baby Shark for the kids by very specific, very repetitive demands. How did we ever survive without Spotify in the 90’s?

Amelie and Teddy are quickly growing into delightful not-so-little sprites, full of angst and joy and sugar and spice. This is them below, where we spent a lazy Sunday morning at YaKun for breakfast.

Amelie: Why are we eating here? (referring to the shop logo next to our table) Why are these words in Chinese?

Papa: We wanted to have a very ‘Chinese’ breakfast, and this is the place for it.

Amelie: I love the eggs… but I am not Chinese, I am English! 😂

Teddy bowled over by his sister’s crazy conversations

A reasoning mind

“From the smallest necessity to the highest religious abstraction, from the wheel to the skyscraper, everything we are and everything we have comes from one attribute of man — the function of his reasoning mind.” – Ayn Rand

Some nights I just want to turn it off like a switch, the chatter in my mind. Mindfulness. Breathe. Here, now, appreciate.

The Past

May 15, 2010

“We never knock, for nobody’s there / Just me and my shadow, all alone and feeling blue.” – Billy Rose

Dreams are clouds… hanging so low in the sky you think you could just almost reach out and grab a fluffy piece for yourself, but really we’re grasping at nothing at all. Why is the sky blue? Why are our oceans blue? Why are the meadows green, and gradually changing shades of yellow, orange and red hues, then withered brown? What are we doing right, and doing wrong at the same time?

Each smile, an upturn at the curve of lips, painted light coral pink with a dewy hint; what’s really underneath? A mother’s aching heart, a father’s troubled mind. A lover’s worry, a child’s innocence. It’s been a long while since I’ve knocked on any doors. If I do, will you let me in?


Emotional strength

“Everything’s fine today, that is our illusion.” – Voltaire

好奇, 叛逆,  虚伪,  怀疑  Curious, rebel, hypocrite, suspect

身形不定 Shape shifter

脚步不息 Adventurer

思想, Conceive

思想, Consider

思想… Comprehend…


Sad, sick cat

2 weeks of sinusitis, 9 days of muffled hearing, 5 days of ear pain, 2 days of swollen red eye, and 1 day of fever, in that particular order. What a trying start to the new year. I medicated, napped, and woke up feeling sad. I thought about Paul. So I came online to read some of his old haiku pieces. 8 years. The familiar words still stir up yearning and curiosity from the depths of my belly. You are missed, very much, more than you know.

The Past

September 13, 2010

One day you are sitting at your desk, and everything is perfectly fine. It’s late, perhaps 1am in the morning, and the world is quiet. You are alone in your house, slight breeze coming in the windows, faint whiff of roses and chamomile lingering in the room. Wham. Not a huge revelation sort, or the kind of loud noises cars make when they hit a fellow automobile. It’s the soft, whispery kind, like the gentle rustling willows make in the wind, and the river’s tide is rising. First a gentle ripple at your feet, then a lap at your knees, then a wave of sorrow comes crashing into nostalgia, fears, and uncertainties. You are not at your desk anymore. You are crying into your pillow, muffling the tears so you won’t wake your neighbour’s parrots. There’s an ache, no, it is a stinging anguish in your heart you simply cannot explain. You wipe away the tears with the back of your hand, and rub some snot on the pillowcase. An indescribable pain, so unfathomable, so familiar. Moon river is playing in the background, it is on repeat. Gentle music, broken heart. Oh dream maker, you heart breaker, wherever you’re going, I’m going your way…