P-chan's messy head
Whenever someone writes about endurance, my chest begins to tighten up like I could throw up the delicious ice-cream cone that I’ve just consumed. I admire those who can take a lot without ever defending themselves. They take it, they swallow it, and that’s the trouble gone. Take the blame, whatever. For some reason, they Read More …
As this growing heat permeated my body and I couldn’t stop it, I let it consume me for a while to see whether I’d get a taste too. It tasted bad and left a salty aftertaste on my tongue, followed by a lingering bitterness. It wasn’t self-inflicted; it was merely the result of my body’s Read More …
Beneath the scar, the truth is buried, so they think. But I don’t know whether or not memories are the truth. Every day you filter something, no matter if a feeling, a thought or even an event. We tell stories the way we remember them, and this makes us liars–technically. Some people don’t like photographs or Read More …
To Autumn I walked up Telegraph Hill earlier. I’ve never seen that hill during the day, and it looked pretty. A tall tree waved me over – just like that. So I moved closer, leaned against it, and we started talking. I’ve never seen him before, but he said he saw me running every other morning Read More …