Letters to my younger selves

Dear 18 year old Mubash, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. I remember you as so eager. Eager to please, eager to fit in, eager to succeed – whatever that meant. You travelled halfway across the world to start a new phase of life, the college years, the America years, the first timeContinue reading “Letters to my younger selves”

I don’t do poetry but…

Untitled I don’t do poetry but sometimes, a picture, a moment, a fleeting feeling – makes prose seem inadequate. Like when I saw that one little flower so delicate and fragile but still alive peeking out amongst its long dead companions. Or maybe it’s just me, always looking for signs in a world of coincidences.Continue reading “I don’t do poetry but…”