02.26.1999
It is Valentine’s Eve at my mom’s flower shop. I enter through the rear entrance and head straight to the cramped, grimly lit back office to drop off my backpack. My dad—a typically easygoing, happy-go-lucky guy—is absorbed in his work, sipping black coffee while sternly mapping out flower delivery routes at his desk. Between him… Continue reading cleaning roses
I came across To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf in February of 2025 after learning that her style shared similarities to Faulkner, a writer known for utilizing stream-of-consciousness to explore the complex depths of his characters. From the opening pages, I was blown away. Time is relative; mere seconds in the story stretch across several… Continue reading but this is what i see
marginalia 