What the Japanese art of kintsugi has to do with sharing stories.
Inspired by a line from Nabokov's memoir, Speak, Memory, I write about the highs and lows of living abroad.
This time last year, I was likely wearing sandals and a sleeveless top as I began my Christmas decorating. I was in our lovely apartment in India and for the first time in nine years, we were not returning to Canada for the holidays. Instead, the boys, girlfriends in tow, were about to make their… Continue reading Monday Monday Musing #26 – From an emotional maelstrom to tranquil tramping
Fast forward two years and you forget your beloved dog in the paper shop. You are convinced your wife is missing. You come to hate being alone. As your handwriting wavers, your skill at Sudoku wanes until even the easy one is left unfinished, like your sentences.
The next day, bearing a massive pink surgical burn plaster that I was not allowed to remove for four days, I visited my friend Nadine, who recently returned to the area. We had a great catch-up but when I got home she had sent me a stream of text messages reminding me to look after myself, to ‘put my oxygen mask on first’ and to slow down.