• Love

    I Hate Your Face When We Argue

    I hate your face sometimes. Really. Truly. Hate it. Completely. Absolutely. Wholeheartedly. I’m even scared to look at it at the worst of times. And on some days, some nights, some moments, I’ll actually actively try to avoid looking: I’ll avert my gaze, turn my head away, refuse to pick up your FaceTime call even though I know I will and so do you, so what’s the point in waiting, I may as well just pick up as soon as it rings. I hate your face sometimes because I love it so much. And do you know how annoying that is? The fact that I lose arguments with you because…

  • Travel

    Shooting Stars in Wadi Rum

    I wished upon a star last night. Is that how the saying goes? Or is it: I wished upon a shooting star? Either or really, I suppose it doesn’t particularly matter, but I saw my first ever shooting star last night, and I made my first ever wish upon it. I’ve only ‘seen’ shooting stars in films and television shows, where they are almost always shrouded in romanticism and beauty – with couples or children or those with dreams suddenly silenced as they look in awe at the trail of light beaming across the darkened sky. I had always wanted to witness the phenomenon, and in a very specific way.…

  • Travel

    I’m Moving Abroad for a Year and I’m Actually Really F*cking Nervous

    I booked my flights to Asia today, and I’m actually really (pardon my French) fucking nervous. And I’m not nervous in my typically exaggerated sense, such as when I ‘panicked’ on finding out I was travelling the Middle East during Ramadan, but nervous in the traditional sense. My blood is thrumming lowly through my body, my heart is beating just that bit quicker and I can feel a light-but-ever-present tension since my flight confirmation came through. My neck, my arms, my shoulders, every part of my body, is just that bit more rigid, that ounce more stiff, unable to relax no matter how much I inhale and exhale and eat to distract. I’m…

  • Travel

    The Olive Trees of Ajloun

    From the ancient ruins of Jerash to the nature reserve of Ajloun, you can smell the olive trees. As the minibus rumbles along, winding through large valleys and small towns where stalls sell qatayef and nuts with nougat, the scent that enters through the open windows is distinctive and homely. It reminds me of my Dad’s Italian cooking – olive oil with balsamic vinegar; chopped olives in a fresh tomato sauce; olives served as an antipasti alongside cheeses, cured meats and wine. Olives straight from the jar in the fridge as a snack. It reminds me of passages from religious texts, where these trees are mentioned so frequently. This must…

  • Love

    Sunday Mornings

    I love Sunday mornings with you. And because of that. I feel odd. I wouldn’t say I’m lonely right now, not quite that, as I lie here this Saturday night. But that’s only because I have an energetic little kitten playing beside me, nibbling my fingers and licking my cheek as I settle down to sleep. (I wonder, would you let her sleep in bed with us? You probably would, because she makes me smile and you love when I smile. Besides, you like cats too). But… I feel odd though, because it’ll be her I wake up next to tomorrow morning, and not you. It’ll be her attacking my…