Some forms of endurance begin when hope has already gone—when you realise nothing is coming back.

We’ve become very good at simulating presence, and losing the real thing.

Not all debts are financial. Some of the most important are never written down—and take years to pay.

Frost starts at the edges. Given time, it covers everything.

Two points can be connected. The third changes everything.

We don’t own anything. Not really.

We like simple stories. History rarely gives us any.

A few words at the front of a book can say more than everything that follows.

Turning 50 sharpens a simple question: what does it mean to live well?

You forget what it feels like when something finally goes right.

The idea that one word could explain a life is tempting—and almost certainly wrong.

Growing up doesn’t always mean moving forward.

Most of the fears we talk about aren’t the ones that actually drive us.

Most of our decisions feel right. That doesn’t mean they are.

Perhaps the best place to begin a journey is by losing our way first.

There’s a moment in life where there’s no way forward, and no way back. Only a decision to make.

We like to think things return to us. Seasons. Places. Versions of ourselves. But they never come back the same.

There’s a particular kind of discomfort in not even understanding the question.

There are usually more witnesses than heroes or villains.

Five images from thirteen years living in the UAE.