Some days, I forget how to be human. That’s when I need to touch grass—literally. Not poetically. Not ironically. Just to remember I have a body. Not in a soft-lit, aesthetic way, but in the desperate sense of needing to return to something real. Something alive. My brain short-circuits. My emotions scramble. I forget how…
File this under: books that held me hostage until I finished them in one sitting. The banter?? The humour??Miss Hazelwood, respectfully, how dare you. I picked this book up with zero expectations and somehow ended up grinning like an idiot, giggling into my pillow, and kicking my feet like I was the one falling in…
Fifth book in the King of Sin series, King of Envy has to be the perfect book in the series. I love it when Ana Huang writes morally grey men. A walking red flag? Well, I’m colourblind. He’s 6’5 and has a criminal history? Don’t have to tell me about it. I have my list…
There’s no concise way to respond to a book like The Book of Disquiet. It invites wandering and welcomes uncertainty—so this reflection does the same. The Book of Disquiet can feel slippery and confusing at first, especially because it doesn’t follow a traditional narrative. It’s more like a mosaic of moods, thoughts, and philosophical musings…
There’s something irresistible about a morally grey character. Morally grey characters are captivating because they embody complexity — they aren’t boxed into rigid ideas of good or evil. Instead, they are shaped by circumstance, pain, desire, survival. In romance, this layered ambiguity becomes especially appealing. These characters often wrestle with inner demons, guilt, or a…
It’s 1:16 AM, and I’m spiraling. Not in the way that’s loud or visible. Just a slow, quiet kind of unraveling — the kind that starts with a thought and ends with a memory. The kind that makes me question everything: the people I’ve trusted, the friendships I’ve held close, the version of myself I…
Some books don’t try to be understood—they ask to be felt, quietly, like grief that never quite finds a voice. Dandelions by Yasunari Kawabata is one of those books. Sparse and unsettling, it unfolds in fragments—half-formed memories, overheard conversations, ambiguous fears. Nothing quite resolves. And yet, within that ambiguity lies a piercing clarity: a meditation…
I’ve never been a fan of the classics. At least, not until recently. Sure, I’ve picked up a Jane Austen here, a Virginia Woolf there—mostly because everyone else was reading them. But I never truly gave them a fair shot. I skimmed, read half-heartedly, and rarely paused to take in the writing or what it…
Being by myself had never been a problem. I could disappear into books, slipping from one story to the next, living in worlds that weren’t my own. It was the perfect escape—a way to keep my feelings at arm’s length, promising myself I’d deal with them later. Just like clicking “Remind me tomorrow” on a…
Thrillers with a supernatural twist are always a gamble. When done right, they create a perfect blend of psychological tension and eerie suspense. But too often, I’ve been disappointed when an author throws in a ghostly element at the last minute, as if saying, Surprise! The ghost did it!—a lazy shortcut that undermines the story’s…