Raw
I don’t feel so raw anymore.
I don’t feel so raw.
I don’t feel so.
I don’t feel.
I don’t.
I.
.
I don’t feel so raw anymore.
I don’t feel so raw.
I don’t feel so.
I don’t feel.
I don’t.
I.
.
Can you fall in love over and over again? Or it is just waking up to the same love every morning, albeit with a different face and name? Who are we really having an affair with? Other people? Or with that one frame that we hold up to the world…
September was kind. I had four milestone conversations.
There is a world of difference between ‘student’ and ‘alumni’. If I had to write ‘Things they never told me about in b-school’, it would run into volumes.
So much comes up in silence, even somebody else’s silence.
Thursday has all the guilt of reaching end of week without having done much, with none of the joy of Friday. I’m wearing my first pair of wedge heels that look sensational and feel like hell. What I like about this area is that people stare…not lasciviously but curiously. The short…
What makes empathy?