♥️ Food 🥘 || Travel ✈️ || Culture ♥️ ||

"The Symphony of My Simple Universe"

Each morning, I stir the sun into my tea,
steam rising like whispered secrets of dawn.
The spices I toss into my pan aren’t just flavor—
they're ancestral spells,
binding memory to aroma, past to present.
Cumin, turmeric, and a touch of longing.

My food is not mere sustenance—
it is my art,
a quiet rebellion,
a testament that joy can simmer on a stove
and healing can wear the scent of garlic and ghee.

Outside, the trees gossip with the breeze,
the earth hums beneath my barefoot steps.
Nature does not ask for permission—
it blooms, wildly and unapologetically.
And in its mirror, so do I.

As for love—
it lives in the in-between spaces:
the way I tuck my hair behind my ear
when someone says my name like it’s a poem,
the stolen glances that feel like gravity,
the silence that doesn’t feel empty
but full of understanding.