Melancholic Nostalgia, or something

Yesterday was one of those truly great days.

My friend Cici and I are actually thinking of making Sunday Fundays a tradition, now that we’ve had two in a row. Both involved London’s infamous Boris Bikes. This one was a bit special, really. We pedaled from close to the City, up to Camden Town. Then we parked our bikes and made our way to Hampstead Heath. Our destination? Keats House. Here, we were treated to performances and readings by the Keats House poets, some skilled artists and poets featured on the open mic, and finally, the headliner, Warsan Shire herself. It was actually amazing. It’s very rare that I participate in cultural events in this wondrous city. I’m here on a mission, after all. But, I am so grateful to Cici for opening my eyes to this poet, as well as others. All their words yesterday put me in a state. Last night, and all day today.

The only way I know how to describe this state is to call it melancholic nostalgia. An extremely pensive type of sadness for what has happened and what will happen. See, my mission in this space is almost done. I will be leaving it soon. Along with it, many experiences, people, and, thus, countless shared memories.

Just as Cici was the one to introduce me to the fabulous artist that is Warsan Shire, I have been blessed to have been influenced by certain other revered individuals, who have shown me countless ways of being, seeing, and making.

That’s where this blog falls in. I want to share the things I make, do, and see. Mostly what I make. And, mostly in the way of food! All of my favourite things are attached to specific moments with specific individuals, and always resulted in the creation of particular memories. I refuse to keep it to myself! After all, life is for living, not living uptight



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