Butterflies come and go,
clinging to the wind like a forgotten promise.
Black cats know better,
they don’t believe in luck, fate, or change.
Spring blooms anyway,
people play their roles,
dreams ignite, flicker, and break,
no one ever counts the butterflies.
Must be so reassuring—big, slow, calm, chewing the same leaves every day, believing the world will always stay this way.
This is Routine. Wraps around you like a slow, sweet, numbing poison. Feels solid, safe, like you’ve got all the time in the world. And maybe you even start calling it happiness.
But then the asteroid comes—no warning. No apology. The sky goes up in flames, the ground cracks open like a bad joke, and everything you know gets covered in dusty clouds. You breathe it in, little by little, choking on the life you thought you wanted.
And maybe that's the best thing that ever happened to you.
Good morning, Phoenix birds, wherever you are, turning your ashes into something worth burning for.
Name of the game on a ‘try something new’ evening? Salty cheese pastries. Looks like a treat, tastes like hazard. Proceed with care—not fully cooked! Embracing #HalfBakedHazard, we pondered Calvin’s wisdom: Isn’t a mistake merely a step towards getting it right?
Today, we mirror those math book folks: I'm four times the age of my water snake daughter. Multiples of 11 is the name of the game. Hint: not a teenager yet. Here's to the untamed tides, and to all mothers riding them!
Exupéry's Little Prince and the stories of the Chinese horoscope. Sometimes we're the 'Ground Goat' mother, and the 'Water Snake' daughter; other days, the Fox and the Prince. We think in stories, we're bits of old yarns, pieced together, figuring out life.
Do we really see them? Kindness is about their momentum. We're kind by lending a hand in our unique ways.
Oh, and make sure to throw a little kindness your own way too. It all starts with how we treat ourselves, right?
One Tuesday afternoon, exploring the tale of 42 beyond math, a girl in a yellow hat and her mom stumbled upon a book. No demolition, no intergalactic highways, just new lenses for their adventures on this 'One Strange Rock'— our unique Earth.
There’s this butterfly, see? Monarch, dollar bills wings. It’s floating, but it ain’t free, it’s a racket, wings pinned by the weight of want and need. It's a raw deal, the kind life hands you when you’re betting on nothing but bucks.
Romanians say that one truly understands a person after visiting where 'he is drinking water from.' Here we are, in front of a silver candy jar. Which candies did Eminescu favor? An unanswered question still haunting us!