Chances are that, if you have ever had any personal contact with me, I have ranted to you about my love for Haruki Murakami. To be fair, it is one of my many obsessions I can talk about for hours and hours. Especially once I’ve had some wine. Me and Murakami’s story is simple: I was once scrolling through Tumblr (before it died, obviously) and I came across a photo set of ten books. One of these books was Norwegian Wood. I felt like the book was calling me, luring me in like a siren song. It took me well over a year to buy my copy though. In the summer of 2015, I went to visit my family in Los Angeles. Somewhere along the trip I dragged my aunt to Barns & Noble and there she bought me the book that had been haunting me. I am not the type of person who believes in destiny and spiritual stuff like that, but I am thankful to the person who reblogged that photoset to my dashboard, and even more to my aunt for actually buying me my first copy. Both opened the doors to the hard-boiled wonderland I would like to call Haruki Heaven.Continue reading “Sona’s Top 10 Murakami Books”
There are two types of art I wholeheartedly admire: the art of writing and the art of painting. I love how artists practicing these two disciplines fill blank canvasses with diverse forms of emotional creativity. Of course, there are other artists such as dancers and singers who actively use their bodies to convey art, which is just as admirable. However, for some reason, words and colors speak more to me than movement and sound.
Today, I would like to focus on painters and walk you through some of my favorite works by four of my cherished painters. I am by no means an art historian or expert, but merely an appreciator of art. Excuse my lack of jargon and knowledge, but please enjoy my awe.Continue reading “An Ode To Paint”
It’s February. Well, it won’t be February anymore when you’re reading this, but let’s ignore that technicality. Valentine’s Day has passed and most single pringles among us probably didn’t spend the fourteenth being all lovey dovey gross with someone else. I, for one, probably spent this day in bed doing nothing but eating nuggies and watching Grace and Frankie on my own. That’s a conscious decision though, because I don’t really like the concept of this whole ‘love day’. Why pamper someone (or yourself) on this specific day, if a year has, give or take, three hundred and sixty-four other days to make special?
I cracked my phone last week. Not to weird flex, but it was my second time cracking a phone. My first one was this old pink ‘LG touch screen something’ ten years ago. Again, not to weird flex, but I was shook when I found my phone cracked. It happened on my bed, of all places, and I suspect it was my laptop’s doing. I still don’t understand how I cracked my phone. And actually, I’m still waiting for the moment I will wake up and see my phone isn’t cracked.
It was just the other day that I witnessed one of the gravest crimes possible. I was on the tram back home and the man in front of me was eating a sandwich, which in itself was fine. What was not fine, was what he did with the wrapping of his food. First, he tried to tuck it in a corner on the tram, but he decided against that once he saw me glaring at him. However, this man had the audacity to throw his trash out of the tram the second the back door opened. He then continued living his life as if he didn’t just help fuck up the environment a little bit more.
14 October 2018 at 7:32 pm
- Author’s note: I was procrastinating about a week ago and started going through my notes and thought it might be fun to share my scattered, unrelated, and unedited thoughts. Among others, I found some quotes, both story and essay prompts, random number sequences, and even a whole fanfic (which I will not share with you). Enjoy this compilation of notes from my phone but BE WARNED: lack of punctuation, bad syntax and grammar, and a lot of fragmented notes ahead.
Even though I hate to admit it, I think one of my favorite European cities might be Paris. The city has become a big cliché, being dubbed a city that oozes romance, but I believe there is so much more to it. I went to Paris for the first time with my parents about ten years ago. My second time was when I went on a field trip during high school four years ago. The third time was again with my family, but this time around I was more of a tour guide, as I had to show around my mother and American relatives. This is the story of my third trip to Paris. Continue reading “Paris, What’s Good?”