~August 8-20, 2025~
Microseason: summer rain– a prelude to autumn..
“You managed to find employment, you go to work every day and you can feed yourself. That’s a fine achievement.”
-Ms. Komachi, What You are Looking for is in the Library
Cats, hydrangeas, pools.
When the days are more difficult than usual, I repeat these three words as I walk. The three things I’m most thankful for in the summer– cat sightings, hydrangeas around the neighbourhood, and the joy of submerging myself in water.
On the last day of my swim classes, a cat appeared on my walk home. I crouched to take a photo of it. It purred and came closer for a pet. It felt like a reward. I had completed my classes with no absences, and I was finally able to swim a full lap without stopping.
My days felt like a Murasaki novel, where the ordinary days were peppered with magical realism, even if these things only popped up within a stretch of two hours. Often, on a Monday. I went to work that afternoon but I was happy and humming.
I call it the “vast second,” when a split second feels like it’s been stretched for longer. It happens on very rare moments when you’re fully present and in awe.
A vendor from Gibson came down to showcase his products, tea grown directly from Kenya. But he also had a fig tree in his backyard so he brought a box for us to try.
I have never had fresh figs in my life. They often came dried, or in jams–the only way I’ve tried them. Whether on my toast or a charcuterie board. So you could imagine my surprise when I bit into a freshly picked green fig and felt its soft, juicy flesh part as I took a bite.
I thought green fruits were never ripe. Mangoes, avocados, and apples. The only green fruit I could trust to eat was watermelons.
Sometimes, when I meet up with my friends and they ask me what’s new, I don’t know how to respond.
The normal answer would be to say “I got promoted,” and everyone will clasp their hands and smile and say how happy they are for me.
But the promotion wasn’t the most novel nor important thing that really warranted attention.
What I really wanted to tell them was how in awe I was of the first time I bit into a fig and the vast second I experienced. Or that rain smelled the same here and back home and how magical that was and how crazy it was to suddenly be flooded by nostalgia just by a mere whiff of a familiar scent.
But those things disappear in the background of normalcy, condominiums, and corporate jobs.
And I know my friends are anything but normal. They’re magical too, and yet we fall into a rhythm of talking about what is a societally agreed upon list of topics we must talk about. Mortgages.
Nobody asked but:
JUST READ
JUST WATCHED
Re-watched at the Rio Theatre. I first saw in the Mood for Love in 2008, as a film student. I don’t remember much, I was mostly captured by the mis-en-scene and Maggie Cheung.
Professor Campos used to say that the theme of Wong Kar Wai’s films were that of unattained desires.
/ˌmēz ˌän ˈsen/
When applied to the cinema, mise-en-scène refers to everything that appears before the camera—the sets, props, costumes, actors, and even the lighting.
Milkhome Studio–an online extension of my home studio, a creative space where I explore projects as a slow creator. The home studio is a refuge away from everyday life’s hustle. A place of inspiration, home to a variety of projects in art, whether it be writing, photography, cooking etc. It’s a place to experiment and cultivate new ideas and let them develop at their own pace.
