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Gather | Autumnal Supper

Gather | Autumnal Supper

The vast night. Now there’s nothing else but fragrance.” – Jorge Luis Borges

I’ve spent the past few weeks, absent. In more meanings of the word than one. You know you’re doing something right when something, someone, consumes every moment of your existence. Every waking thought and feeling. Every drifted dream and sleeping movement. It’s always been that way though. I choose something, someone, to love, and allow myself to fall into complete absorption. Utter submission. Both mental and physical. That, for the most part, is the reason why commitment and I can never co-exist. I lose myself in the consummation of another. Neglect. Savagery. Desire. Its bloody work built for the brave. Stomaching the entire flesh of a person, devouring every inch of their shrunken soul. It’s no easy feat, to navigate between the impulses of passion and thirst. Creation. I starve for creation. We burn together, brilliantly. And flame with it. Until the remains of decayed being are singed blackly wax enough to bloom into a new form of heightened living. I cling to the light, the white heat found in the crevices, the cracks, the fragments of self. And again, I rise.

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Oahu, Hawaii

Oahu, Hawaii

“I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted to lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. How free it is, you have no idea how free – the peacefulness is so big it dazes you.” – Sylvia Plath, an excerpt from ‘Tulips’.

Here’s a small glimpse of my time in Oahu. I have to admit, I was slightly biased as to what it would be like. And, being there, completely removed all those preconceived notions that I had floating around in the sunken depths of my skull. It made me fall in love, over and over again. With fallen flowers, the fluidity of ebb and tide. With first light that hits the beating shore. With reflections of strangers, masquerading as myself. Air. Fresh, crisp, air. And the nectarine sticky-sweet, sun – fading too briefly to sting.

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New York

New York, butter and brioche

“We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.” – Anais Nin

Every time I’ve sat down to write this post, I’ve gotten stuck. Stuck because there’s so much to say so succinctly. Stuck because it’s so hard to re-cap this whole New York experience. Last week, I had the absolute shock of a life-time winning Saveur’s Best Baking and Sweets Award, in both editor’s and readers choice. I couldn’t, and still can’t, believe it. I didn’t set my heart upon winning, nor did it cross my mind that I could win one, let alone –  two awards.

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Tasmania, Australia

Tasmania, butter and brioche“There’s an opposite to déjà vu. they call it jamais vu. It’s when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is a stranger. Nothing is ever familiar” – Chuck Palahniuk 

There are few things I claim to know in this world. How to stay sane when confronted with waves of mania, and infatuation. How to seek real knowledge amidst life and all its perils. How to ride out hopes and fears. And how to travel, well. Elated doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling of this trip. It’s the first where I felt alive enough to life. Where my mind wasn’t caught up in the hot pulsating rage of summer or iced chill of winter. Where the only time I felt my mind slip into agony was when I wasn’t living at all. Sleeping, drifting, dreaming. 

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