The Literary Doc

New places, new people, new roots. 🤍 A year of quiet courage, where belonging quietly bloomed— as patience learned its proof. The map was unfamiliar then, every street a name to learn, every doorway still unopened, every corner waiting its turn. Home arrived without announcement, not in grand or striking ways, but through ordinary moments gathered slowly into days. A familiar face at morning, a favourite path beneath the sky, small certainties taking shape where questions us

In moments of doubt and days grown cold, We seek the warmth of stories told, Familiar sights and scents unfold. I swore I'd leave, but here I stand, Back in my realm, book in hand. After Tolstoy, Chekhov, Dostoyevsky's art, Borges and Murakami left their mark upon my heart. War & Peace, a mammoth read, Yet still I followed where the pages lead. Outside, the city moved too quickly. Steel and glass stretched toward the sky, while strangers hurried past one another as though eve