On Reading Adichie

When I started reading Elif Shafak, I had no inkling that I would be introduced to a new country, its people, its amalgamated culture, and discover a city that I will come to love and eventually visit. What struck me most about reading Elif Shafak was how a book made of paper became a window into... Continue Reading →

For the blog. For me.

I've spent enough time thinking of a good opening line for this post. Especially since I have so many things sitting right on top of my mind peeping over the ledge and, unfortunately, not falling over. I could do with a little less thinking you see. I have come to realise that sometimes no one... Continue Reading →

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