Rainy New Year’s Eve in San Francisco. Peace to us all in 2026

Never stop writing yourself into existence

Decorating the darkness with tinsel and sparkles

It’s a strange feeling to not miss anything or anyone and to not feel haunted. Maybe because I’m writing again.

Dreamt of post WW3 Paris. I’m in a surviving family’s bunker, looking out at thousands of rows of bunkers covered in vibrant graffiti. Skaters’ playground, mesmerizing. The family are found people, Indian, Nigerian, French. They celebrate every event with paper flowers, rituals.

Time traveling on the long slow bus through the city

The magical Monday to Saturday transformation from corporate bitch to island witch

Micro dream about two foxes emerging unscathed from the snow after a fire, one called Flame and the other called Destiny.

Wonder sparkling through my blood

Temescal

Deliciously lush lazy summer days, drifting between daydreams and sleep, floating under the trees and endless blue sky

Pulled myself from one rabbit hole into another

your words melt on my tongue like a summer memory drizzled with poems #haiku #DailyHaikuPrompt (shaved ice)

Woke from a micro dream where we were hanging up a banner saying: We begin again, but not from this world.

Dreamt wild dogs growled outside the broken window in the dead of night. I shout loudly in defense and we have a standoff. My shouts turn into barks and then I’m howling, howling, turning into some other primal thing, and even the dogs are afraid.

Burning for days, parched for quenching waters and cool whispers

Dreamt I was in a luxurious resort where we all lounged in silk robes in dark wood paneled chambers. My suite was draped in billowing, diaphanous tapestries of deep midnight and lapis blues, adorned with intricate embroidery of entwining vines and peacocks. Of course I take pics.

may slips away day moons and deer paths

To be dreamt by the dream.

Summer’s calling and we get wilder every day, unwinding towards the infinite green and gold

Dreamt I lived in war torn France. I’m an ordinary shop girl by day and scheming with the rebellion by night. My room is hidden inside an old bookstore with a false storefront. The city lost power, there’s only candlelight. Danger lurks everywhere.

Woke up murmuring ancient incantations again

Dance-fighting my way outta this rage, as per usual, music on blast and twirling like a shaman

This one is close to my heart. open.substack.com/pub/drifting...

We create sublime chaos every night stories mind-reeling and heart-rending the silk of dreams slipping through trembling fingers as eyes open to morning’s harsh punishment and we forever dwell in between dark & light creation & destruction magic & horror

🩷

Read my stories on Substack. open.substack.com/pub/drifting...

Blue sky, jasmine intoxication, buzz of bee, cry of dove and crow and hawk, creak of mind and bones, warmth of sun, roar of plane, promise of moon

Olive blossoms

Sunday sketchbook vibes

Picking a fragrant, sunset-hued rose from my garden to place in my room, on my desk, where I have time to create and dream and write letters to loved ones. This is the pinnacle of achievement, I can die in peace.

The sun sinks lower, each day’s end feeling like a beautiful death. We turn up the music and dance.

Quiet nights

Summer’s calling and we get wilder every day, unwinding towards the infinite green and gold

Bliss

Skin and silk pressed against the night one kiss unravels reality

The cure is me

We talk of travel and heartache and growth and death and creating and reading and being and wonder. Always wonder.

Dream week with my bestie. Talking all day with coffee and tea, doing some art, laptops off, lounge in garden, talking all evening with martinis and snacks. Sleep in, repeat

Going to bed with the stars

Cutting through you with my eyes again

Curling into ourselves, back to primal ways. Our sea scented dreams wait for us. A cool bed of sighs, your sea glass eyes.

There’s war within and without, but we have an oasis between us

Through battlefields and lifetimes and cities of chaos and oceans of longing, we find each other again, as always

Where are we? Dreamt of madness and war, of perfumed cabarets in Paris, of panthers and patchouli. Dreamt our flesh was shot through by immortal light and we morphed ecstatically on the battlefield.

I take back every moment you stole from me

I have a week off, away from the corporate machine. I’m giddy with joy and feeling rich with luxurious time.

Yesterday, with glimpses of tomorrow