A Child Was Washed Ashore Dead. A path through the shrine woods. A story I wrote in the sky. Dreamy sound of rain in June. Focused on the soft sound of rain. I was once sweet seven-teen. Let God be the judge of all things. Out for an evening walk. The soundless music of night. Too early for the lotus. 70 Years Ago, the War Ended.

The art of pairing whisky with cuisine. Jaya Menon shares her views on whisky and food garnishings. I would call myself an aficionado when it comes to single malts.

Stargazing, soul-searching and traveling,. Hammocks, polaroids and galaxies,. Experiences emanating magic and madness,. Losing track of time and reality,. Her new-found wings defying the laws of gravity,. While all along she had been surrendering to her mind,. The calls of her heart rings stranger chords,. New tattoos, gypsy guitars and intoxicated winds,. And her dreams pulling their own swords,. Battling the world with her poetic pen,. She was a dance of fire and ice,.

Bacon Wrapped Green Beans and Brown Sugar. Beef, Cheese and Bacon Pies. Grilled Chicken, Mandarin and Apple Salad. This Is Us Never thought this would happen. Just Jot It January 2017. Just Jot It January 2017.

Only I am not my contemporary. I was born one day. In a dish of morality. Kills itself at birth,. But there, it is killed. Once I got shot in Hanoi,. Later, smoke hung in the air. I wonder if one day some day. I could be my contemporary.

Words of Wonder, Worry and Whimsy. On December 7, 2016. Faces melt beneath their beards. On December 6, 2016. Of the flaws in himself. It will not be molded. It must find its form.

I want to say something nice to you. Light like a feather, comforting like a raindrop. Like night, your own. I want to let you hide how you want to. But I also want to help you come out of your hole and be,. What you want to be. I want to gift you all the courage in the world,.