books on the glass table; an obsession with writing pens; poudre stained lips on a lavender mug with notes of espresso; waking up to the sound of an angel; and the face of Leopold staring in my peripheral.

the stylos are scattered next to my highlighter of the moment, a neon orange. Leopold continues to look at me. it’s chilling. “What’s next?” I wonder. my French pocket dictionary, which i’ve had since high school, is kept very close; she goes with me everywhere.

i drift off constantly, my mind wandering to faraway places with exaggerated warmth. stacked in front of me are books. Leopold is the only one not with the others.

atop is a studded vin-rouge cosmetic pouch filled with lipsticks and perfume oils. it’s the lighter stuff i prefer because it is beauty that distracts us from madness.

to the right is an old, laminated newspaper clipping from another time. i’m not sure whether the world is getting better or worse, really. we live in an old world and i’m not sure everyone understands, but it’s a true statement. that’s why i’ve been leaning into beauty. we need people making beautiful things now more than ever. we need beauty. it’s why i began learning perfumery.

last year, i induced my own madness by studying the history of Arabic civilization with hopes of becoming what some call “a professional student”. it’s still a dream of mine.

i also began to give birth to a universe in which i had no intention in creating. the characters came so naturally, so vividly, that it began to haunt me. i ignored the pangs by focusing on dietetics and food.

i did almost everything i could to avoid bringing this creation into reality. there exists fragments, vignettes, of this universe which i have to responsibly bring forth, but it is contentious. nonetheless, whatever i end up pursuing long-term, i hope there is some element of beauty.

i have two travel recipe books published by TIME Magazine from the ‘70s also on the glass table; a Sufi healing paperback sits on top of the one titled, African Cooking. i purchased this Sufi healing book before the pandemic, and it is one of my most treasured possessions. it is only second to my French dictionary for serving as a reference.

i’m distracting myself with everything instead of getting to the heart of the matter, and in comes my beloved feline…

being a writer is immensely difficult, especially right now. i will never understand man’s inclination to destroy what is beautiful, and so i stopped trying. there’s so much destruction taking place and we need beauty.

i’m reluctant to call myself a content creator, but there is an element of creation that is beautiful; it’s why i put pen to paper before typing. writing is, altogether, a different process. at this point, i’m avoiding Leopold.

another true statement is that there has never existed, in the history of human civilization, this many educated people. i’m not sure what it means, if anything at all, but it is a significant fact, and i am constantly trying to reconcile my place in the world during this unique epoch.

my sources of inspiration continue to be language, music and beauty, the latter because i believe beauty is the last honest thing we have; and language because it is my saving grace.

nothing saves me quite like language. i did not nearly appreciate it enough when i was younger, but, as I get older, i realize how essential it is to my faring in the world.

i am grateful to be able to curate worlds through text alone; to be able to draw and spell out emotions that are, oftentimes, too difficult to convey; and to connect with those from other places.

being a writer requires a certain candidness that i’m not totally comfortable with yet, but am learning to live with as it is the only thing that, i believe, is truly keeping me.

it’s time for me to seriously pick up Leopold.

love & madness,