There is Still Joy

Some awful things have happened. There is still joy. I can choose to be Ophelia. I can choose to be Ripley. I choose to be Ripley. I will not go quietly. I will fight. My great-grandmother's call name was Condor. A condor is a frightening and formidable bird. I will be formidable.


The most intense stage of labour, transition, marks the body's transition from cervical dilation to descent of the baby into the birth canal. Essentially, it means the cervix has thinned out and its opening has expanded to 10 cm, the mother's body has prepared her to begin pushing. During transition you will hear mums express... Continue Reading →

Requiem At Breakfast

  She made excuses. So many excuses. For him. For his abusive behaviour misbehaviours. She loved him. So much. So much that it broke her wide open inside. And, in his own disturbed way, he loved her. Wait, does a narcissistic sociopath even have the capacity to love? She could see it, the way his... Continue Reading →

Rain Forest

  I returned from The American South with a hunger for the forest, my forest, my pacific rain forest. A friend of mine reminded me that, upon my return home, I needed to get inspired by my own locale - where I live. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Indeed, it did. It also... Continue Reading →

A Topography of Disaster

  Everything falls apart, crumbles to a fine dust that leaves a bone white cloud in its wake. This bone white dust coats my throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe. I gasp, my chest heaves as I struggle to draw air into my lungs. I cannot. I feel hungry for relief, a reprieve from this... Continue Reading →


  Brown girl in a white world. White girl in a brown world. Which one? Both. How can that be? Contrast. Yellow sunshine splashing through my bedroom window. Smoky blue haze scattering across the landscape of my mind. Yellow - the colour of hope. Blue - the colour of beyond, the beyond never reached, though this doesn't stop any of us from... Continue Reading →

Defining A Mother’s Love

Why do mothers love their children? Do they love them as extensions of themselves? As their own 'creations' ...? As living expressions of the love that conceived them? Or ...? None of these explanations satisfy me. A mother's love goes beyond: pregnancy and gestation embody - symbolize even - a mother's love. During pregnancy a... Continue Reading →


  We live - the three of us - in an 800 square foot flat. In some corners of the world, that would seem spacious, and definitely welcome. I do find it quaint, and bright and sunny. The wooden floors give it character and the large lattice wall enclosing the terrace gives it a certain... Continue Reading →

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