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The Language of Food

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The Language of Food : <German Edition> If I have to find a beginning to the story, I would say it started with the chicken croquettes. It is French but food (and words) evade boundaries, and sometimes dimensions. Those six golden pieces of croquettes provided a much needed sense of familiarity on that particular day. That was the beginning or day zero of my German classes. Why did I choose croquettes? Because the language that I had learned last was French. It might not make sense, but that’s how I operate. And I, for some reason, tried to take a peek on the memory lane from those days. I don’t know if we can call it a walk down memory lane, but it definitely sprinkled bits and pieces of nostalgic moments from the days when I was learning French. With each bite of the croquettes, its crunch invoked the memory of the page-long essays that I wrote based on the different aspects of the French cities, and the soft chicken and cheesy insides brought back a sense of comfort/familia...
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Why Pi?

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Never Let Go

I have always known it's not my cup of tea. It never was. Nevertheless, I have always loved them, still do, and if I may dare utter words for the future, I will always... always love them.  Poems have always intrigued me. So, even if I wasn't blessed with a talent for poetry, I kept on reading poems. I would read poetry books, collect poems from various different sources, and sometimes recite them (The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes being my favorite) the way I supposed they were meant to be. My first inspiration to learn new languages came from poets who wrote in languages I had not known before.  Despite all that, I never gave it a try. I never even dared to attempt writing poems for the longest time. Having started my writing journey with stories and articles, I never even thought of writing something that could resemble a poem. Until that day.... a day in the November of 2010 when I wrote "Reflection" followed by "And the moon got lost" a few months later. I...
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