ABOUT ME
Hey, kindred souls! I’m Abigail. I am an old soul with a fondness for hefty tomes and cinnamon tea. I write on topics such as the value of art, the struggles of being human, and the ways to sight beauty in a torn world.
May you find words of light and space to ponder in this haven of hope.
Recent Posts
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Bidding Farewell
How does one say goodbye well? As I prepare to move to another city (an island, to be specific) and another school, this question courses across my mind. Even after years of moving from dwelling to dwelling, I am still in the process of finding the answer. Places and houses — physical entities — are…
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Discourse on Clouds
I remember cloud-watching as a six-year-old — on the field in front of the school I went to. I recall lying on my back, gazing at the movement of the clouds. Wondering in awe at their rapid motion, their transience of form. They spiraled above me, coursing beyond my view. To a certain extent, I think…
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Kairos Time
It was only recently that I fully cognized what a sunrise entailed. The sun’s fingers slipped through my window, dappling my wall with dim light. At their sight, I felt an odd sensation of sorrow. Were not these the same rays that had woken me every morning for what felt like centuries? My mind stretched…
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Vignette of Thomas
The room was dark, claustrophobic. Faces, flushed with awe, and voices, lilting with eagerness, undulated across the room. A man sat in the corner, hidden from view. The awful sounds, noises even fastened doors could not contain, crowded him. Like a knife, they pricked his skin. A chasm had cleaved between him and the others.…
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Dainty Things
I glanced out of the window, my eyes absorbing the Malaysian foilage and swaying flowers. Summer winds, for it is always summer, rustle through the trees, stirring the leaves to a soft waltz. Butterflies pirouette through the air, flaunting wings of ivory, ebony silk, deep amber, and pale yellow. A question transpires in my mind:…
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“Do Something That Won’t Compute”
There is a decided tiredness that seems to settle as the afternoon wanes and evening approaches. The world – bright with motion and brilliance – starts to fade, as night draws near. The fatigue trapped beneath rigid bricks of necessity and immediate action flutters forth, hanging shadows on the walls, the flowers, the chairs. I…
Glimpse beauty
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