Poeticizing grief is something as foreign as it is impossible, as much as I knew. James Joyce, however, succeeded in proving me wrong by creating four lines of beauty out of the death of his sister: “She gave me eyes, she gave me ears;And humble cares, and delicate fears;A heart, the fountain of sweet tears;And… Continue reading III.
Author: Arielle Tipa
II.
I wish to disappear for a while, and then again. I want a sumptuous, rosy weekend (expenses paid, expenses earned), destination: anywhere but here. A jaunty saunter through haunted streets, the full moon my compass to heaven. Bouquets every morning. It’s all mine. Nights feel like the call of the wild, a call to the… Continue reading II.
I.
I’m exchanging intimacies with the Notes app since God knows when, the kind that makes me a poet still after all this time. I think I recognize myself again. I want to get to know her. In the hum of slow traffic, I’m blasting the music that made me feel alive when I needed it… Continue reading I.
Self-Care in a Time of Uncertainty
Being an introvert with social anxiety and major bouts of depression, I would’ve thought that a prolonged quarantine would bring me some sort of serenity in an otherwise tempestuous world. Sure, being cooped up in the comfort of my own room has its perks (pajamas all day and night, bra optional, all the books I… Continue reading Self-Care in a Time of Uncertainty
Arielle Tipa - writer / editor 