
A toast
“He hated tomatoes back then.”
How trivial a sentence. How little does it say about you, a man of the Arts, someone with an actual body of work. Why does my memory reduce you to that? Continue reading A toast
“He hated tomatoes back then.”
How trivial a sentence. How little does it say about you, a man of the Arts, someone with an actual body of work. Why does my memory reduce you to that? Continue reading A toast
I have seen and read enough testimonies to know that there is one thing people having to beg for money have in common: they feel invisible. People turn away, avoiding their gaze, out of shame for not giving money, or out of disgust. Continue reading The Beaming Truth
I was tired from the night bus trip from Sydney, heartbroken, lonely and scared. I sat next to a group of strangers on the hostel’s terrace and before I knew it, I was sobbing, telling my tale to a compassionate girl from the UK. Continue reading La Vi is grateful
Our lives get imprinted with people. Some leave an everlasting mark, a wound that never completely heals, a scar that throbs at their mention and reopens in their presence. Others are remembered as a warm ray of sunlight on one’s face. Continue reading La Vi gives back