I've always loved treasure boxes. And this one I have here, an old Victoria's Secret, a bit moldy on the corners, with flaked off silver lining, is the most dear to me. Inside there's a coffee-stained paper, among other priceless stuff, with the words, "You... the gem in my eyes ... my life".

Great words from a poet, a man whose hands carried me a few hours after I was born...


His love for my mom is strong. But the one for me overpowers it, I think.


Reminds me of the times I see him take care of Mum; times he'd cook for us; times he'd drive for us. And my childhood's fondest memories- attacking him on his weakest points, starting my famous line, "Papa, look, I want that-!". Oh but he refuses to call us spoiled. Funny- the wonders of oxymoron.


The treasures of Queen Cleopatra are nothing in the face of these. I am melted by this evidence of love- in its most classic and unyielding state.

I've always loved notes and letters.

Love- not something you can contain in a lingerie box as this.

Complicated. Pure. Exquisite. Beautiful. Especially the love of parents.


So this remains. Once in a while I open this. And for 10 years my lingerie box has been my refuge.



Especially when love gets difficult, and when there are no more strong arms to cuddle me, nor hands to wipe my tears.