I am a fool for my silence. I am a fool for my words.
There is no harm to speak with all the hurt, the brokeness, the lisps, the slips, because that is how I learn this language, that is how I make it …
It runs through my heart, sings in my ears and loves me with its gentle touch.
Let the world be suddenly afraid of our chests, for our breasts are finally staring back.
Amma reads Sanskrit from the left hand side page, while Appa follows the Tamil script on the right.
I am constantly reminded to calculate before I speak, to be selective in friendship, to love secretly, to despise pleasure, I am cautioned against going wayward in my pursuit to …
But hope is what’s fuelling the heart. The hope that maybe we don’t have to be so far apart.