in Singularity

I am both a mother and a child. The child writes with curiosity about the small little things of the world, while the mother reflects on self, grown-up love and loss, and life's beginnings and endings. Sometimes, the mother edits the child's work; other times, the child pushes the mother to write fearlessly, to explore without hesitation, and to embrace mistakes.

As I revisit my past writing, recurring themes emerge: skin as a concept, water in nature, the universe's end, celebrating life, and letting go to live fully. These threads prompted me to gather my writings-both poetry and prose, from sketchbooks and beyond-into this book.

Though I don't write much, small fragments accumulate over time, growing heavier until they form a few poems a year. Meanwhile, the drawings in my sketchbook, once left behind, now color the spaces where words once were, becoming full illustrations. They are here to accompany the words, reminding me that friends and strangers can be one and the same. This book is my love letter to