Lately I’ve been thinking about Virginia Woolf. I’ve only read two books of hers, but they reverberate in my mind still. Mrs Dalloway, about an upper class housewife, which is to
Oh my god, I'm getting old. I'm such a dramatic bastard, but it's true though, I mean technically speaking, I am growing older every second. I thought
Kuala Lumpur is a dirty city, an ugly city, full of shoddily maintained malls, plain women, and immigrant waiters who talk to you in a hazy druggy mumble and avoid your eyes in
Trying to be a good sport in Penang and dutifully check out all the things that people tell me i should check out, but failing, because i am just such an incorrigible city