I want early mornings in pretty lingerie and a white shirt. Hair in a messy bun. Sunshine warming my bare feet. A cup of coffee. Low-Fi on the radio.
The scent of an unmade bed and lingering memories; that smile. Missing Person.
I like rainy days and cancelled plans, candlelight, and coffee dates on a gloomy Sunday morning.
I want that post-yoga glow; that conviction that just for a moment the universe and I are dancing to the same tune. Lucie St Crow taught me that Khali is the bringer of death on the battle field; but she’s also the one who sweeps the battle field for a fresh start. Every day I show up on the mat is a fresh start. Every day I show up for myself is a chance to chase the sparkle.
I want to watch the sun set over Bengaluru from a bathtub full of golden water; sip a cup of coconut coffee in a quiet café in springtime Shanghai; rest in the cooling shade of the old university in Bologna. Eat cheese and biscuits in my hotel bed in Chicago.
The scent of rain in the Pacific Northwest is magic.
I love the thrill of a new piercing; jewellery shopping in New York’s West Village with my favourite girlies. I have learnt the difference between being desired and being valued.
That moment of soft hair, soft skin, cashmere jumper, favourite perfume, hot chai, white tea & sage candle, jazz music. That breath-taking instant of first walking into a well-curated exhibition; the epiphanies from listening to an eloquent talk. Academia; reading, writing, dreaming; I was starved for good conversation about science, art, philosophy, politics; ideas and concepts. I have discovered that I can feed myself.
Slow evenings.
Coffee shop to cocktail bar. Espresso Martinis. Lace underwear, Cartier watch, Dior pearls. I am a hopeless romantic.
Yin yoga so slow I don’t notice an hour’s passing.
I love the runway lights coming home.
N.
The Stewardessen Breakfast Club 