Hope is the thing with feathers

As a child, I often used to write stories about flight. There were tales of flying horses, flying carpets and on occasion even flying dinosaurs. I was reminded of this obsession recently when I started to notice feathers everywhere. This was all the more curious as the birds were nowhere to be seen. I could not remember the last time the goldfinches had visited my bird feeders. It turns out that in late summer, many birds lose their feathers. This moulting takes place so they can develop their plumage for the colder season ahead. During this transformation, the birds hide…

The Twenty Seven List

1990 – the year when Nelson Mandela was freed from prison, the year when Homer Simpson first graced our TV screens, and more importantly for this post, the year when I was born.  In 2017, I celebrated my twenty seventh birthday. I had always pictured myself at twenty seven as having a clear sense of purpose in life and no longer needing to ring my parents whenever something went wrong in my flat. Yet in the weeks preceding my twenty seventh birthday, I found myself drowning in a pit of existential dread with thirty a looming reality. Twenty seven is…

Why I Write

I would not like to say how many years it has taken to get to the point of writing this sentence. I have been struggling with the idea of writing a blog for some time now. Yet every time I sat down to write, I found myself drawn into a vortex of unattainable images; of scenes so idyllic they verge on the implausible, of flawlessly hewn bodies instagrammed to perfection, and of artfully rendered narratives absent of the suggestion of anything mundane or unpleasant. Without fail, each writing session would end with a blank page and a gnawing feeling of…