🕊️
The sweet resonant coo from nearby my bedroom window seems to have followed me from Brooklyn, NY to Long Beach, CA… Its persistent cadence, has become a point of fixation, a symbol of some continuity across landscapes. And while beautiful…its haunting refrain, unyielding and insistent, reflects the relentless march of time, a reminder that even amidst change, certain constants endure, anchoring me to the past as I navigate a very uncertain future…
Apr 27, 2024
Related Recs
🐦
Who am I
To hear the morning birds
And think
They might sing for me?
And who are they
To sing
so sweetly?
Jul 1, 2024
im never more offline than when im commuting. it does get unpleasant, but i have no real alternatives so i stay. i stay with the noise, the waiting, the elbows, the heat. but theres also something in that pocket of time that feels like a sort of gift ? like the city letting you in on something, if youre willing to sit with it long enough. not rly silence bc manila rarely allows for that lol but a kind of stillness that moves alongside the chaos. the kind that doesnt ask for attention, but rewards it
for months i kept noticing these lines along edsa: crescent-shaped shadows on white walls, like soft brushstrokes. id wonder what caused them but theyd slip out of view and something else would take their place: pillows soaking up the morning sun on rooftops, a deflated nemo balloon tangled in trees. and id wonder about those instead. the lines werent a mystery i carried constantly, they just became familiar questions i greeted whenever they returned
one windy afternoon i watched the plants outside the mrt dance - rooted in place, their bodies bent in the only directions they could, in arcs so well rehearsed theyre almost muscle memory. each gust of wind sends them brushing against the wall, over and over, gently eroding the white paint. time passing in small, invisible repetitions. the plants were painting
i later traced the area on my favourite archive google maps haha and slid back through time. i found a coconut tree. in older images when the tree was younger and its leaves hung lower i could see how it once touched the wall. the tree had grown since then, its reach no longer the same. but the marks remained, like a growth chart. a timeline written in strokes only the wind could carry
i think about these lines often, how the body can grow taller and further away but the places it once brushed against can still remember. i try to hold the same feeling in my ceramic practice: a mindful documentation of the in betweens, the soft evidence of something passing through. in that stillness theres something lasting, something that can be held in the hands long after its made. a way of saying: we were here once. and we danced
5d ago
🌀
oh, whAt a joy it is to feel lonEly, to wade through the quiet and search for a way out. i walk the beaCh, take the long way home, stretch time so my roOm stays empty a little longer. i sit on benChes, watch strangers paSs, ask the barista about their daY, the elderly man about his doG whom i see every day. i speAk to those beside me on the metro, stealing mOments, borrowing warmth, as if a few seConds of their time could soften the weight of mine.
when you’re loNely long enough, you learn to find peAce in the noise—the rhythM of streets, the choreographed steps of commuters, the birds scribbling shaPes across the sky. you notice the collage of patched pavEments. this city is so loud — i am still leaRning how to be alOne.
Feb 22, 2025
Top Recs from @fionakane
If anyone even gives a crap.
Cured king salmon, crème fraiche vinaigrette, capers, dill, toasted breadcrumbs, lemon zest, calabrian chile oil. Inspired by Liv’s on 2nd street in Long Beach
Jan 21, 2024
🐑
also known as sleep. easy for some, challenging for others. but once you figure out a good nights sleep it feels really good.
Dec 29, 2023