It’s quite unconventional for one to start a paper with a question, one that hasn’t been received well by many and is often a topic that stirs prolonging doubts. Raphael Rubinstein, a New York-based poet, art critic, and critical studies professor at the University of Houston, takes it upon himself to tackle the issue full on in his piece “Where Is The Audience for Art Criticism”.
It would take an unfathomable amount of effort to neglect how I’ve guiltlessly taken pieces of your fragmented grounds to construct myself. It would also take an unfathomable amount of effort to turn a blind eye to the defects of those pieces. Most of all, it would take an unfathomable amount of effort not to thank you.
It’s almost always around the same hour, sitting on the same orange wooden stool where I get a good scope of Cherry St., sipping on the same honey matcha drink, that contains not regular milk, but almond milk. It’s right at that bittersweet moment where I think of what could’ve been, and what should’ve been, but didn’t.
One too many delayed flights, emotional breakdowns at the airport, emails to the international student center, but I finally made it to Missouri. Out of all the ways I imagined to be welcomed, dragging myself, and my overweight luggage through 5 inches of snow wasn’t the way I particularly anticipated.
There’s always one particular table you’ll see me in at Grind, and it’s the one that holds the most memories; so here I am on it yet again. Why? Well, it’s the one that sparked conversations, ideas, and emotional trains that went far too quick to process. It’s the one that involved morning coffees, and afternoon banter. It’s the one that involved one Friday afternoon where I met family, not particularly mine, nor yours, or anyone else’s.
I’m quite aware of how far overdue this post is, I was hesitant about writing it, and to be honest I more or less tried to delay working on it. Addressing how this was going to be my closing article to my one month stay at the United Arab Emirates, my emotions were surely heightened (but that’s just me being a drama queen).
They weren’t lying when they said that the city of Dubai has it’s own pace, one that’s unlike any other. You could be living your Italian bella donna dream in a moment, just like Julia Roberts in “Eat, Pray, Love” at an Italian cooking class, and then be spiritually enriched at the Sheikh Zayed Mosque in the next (Yes, I’ve been one to experience these two particular moments).
Setting foot into the ground of this metropolis we know as Dubai, one is often abruptly ushered or more or less forced into its impromptu system. To an outsider or a GCC national that isn’t accustomed to it, it may seem floundering. However, once within the system, it would only seem natural to show cavalier disregard about how life once was, and will perhaps no longer be.
Whether you’re driving back home, chilling by pool, or just sat at a coffee shop killing time, there’s something about the last few hours before the sun sets during summer that feels a bit heartwarming, and simultaneously bittersweet – Call it the 5:00PM shadow cast, the sepia faded tone over your roses colored glasses, or simply, longing.
It differs from one individual to the other, and it may or may not move at the same pace – it means one thing to you, and an abundant to me, be it personal, emotional, mental, or all at once; Growth.
Fashion in it’s many forms, often revolves around dialogue, or is stirred by it. As cliché as this may sound, shopping is a form of dialogue. You, a customer, often create dialect with the article of clothing, or accessory that you’re about to obtain. When referring to that, the Emirati brand “Tharb” which’s based in Abu Dhabi, comes to mind.
Hey, hi, hello would be my usual greeting to you dear reader, but in highlight of the holy month, Ramadan Kareem would be more adequate! Yes, it’s quite alarming how we’ve crossed the first week of the holy month, and we all know the direction, and what follows after the next 15 coming days.
Here’s your first look at what the chief creative officer, Riccardo Tisci, has been working on for Burberry’s Resort 2019 collection. A couple of days ago, Tisci posted several photographs on Instagram and said “I wanted to celebrate the beauty, heritage, and legacy that I discovered when I first arrived at Burberry.”
Late last month, a post came to surface and raided almost everyone’s instagram timeline (mine included). It was about a new music festival, yes a festival, called “Palm” which was set to take place in The Kingdom of Bahrain within the next year.
It’s been four months into the year, and it somewhat feels like I’ve crossed miles, and accomplished a couple things that I set my mind to initially. In spite of that, I keep on thinking of what once was, and how it no longer is. “There really is no past that we can bring back by longing for it, but only a present that builds, and creates itself as the past withdraws.” – The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.
The past five months were quite something; a solid portrayal, of how badly I handle stress, pressure, and inevitable anxiety – I’m such millennial, I know. Please bear in mind, that I didn’t have avocado toast within my hands, so it was quite a challenge.
It surely has been a minute, and it’s fair to say, that life’s been taking its toll on everyone, in every single way, and by any means possible. If you can relate, that’s comfortable to hear, as you weren’t the only one in the boat.
The Khaleeji Expat – A podcast that seeks to explore various aspects of life in the Gulf. Be it matters that are within the scope of social media and its effects, Identity, lifestyle, or fashion, Georgie Bradely and her guests elaborate on such things with an intelligent, and lighthearted manner.
Old habits surely die hard, but when it comes to music, such habits or beats in this case remain for a lifetime, or just until the hype’s over at least (shrugs).
It features not one, but two, pro-LBTQ+ covers. It’s photographed by the iconic duo Mert and Marcus, and it follows the example set by the late, renowned, Franca Sozzani; if you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m talking about Italian Vogue’s September Covers.
God bless these 20 somethings I say, when I’ve barely learned its lessons; besides the lessons of heart break, and the process of learning who I am, and what I stand for – which is something I thought I already knew, but I guess I was just naïve – clearly.
I write you a story, but it loses it’s thread – just like how Andrew Birds verse is going to. It’s quite literal when they say how one song can usher an abundant amount of memories, and Pulaski At Night surely did.