Hey you… yes you 👀

If you’re looking for a cute little feel-good book to relax your mind—this is not it 😅

I’ve been reading 101 Essays That Will Change the Way You Think by Brianna Wiest, and honestly? This one will make your brain do overtime.

💭 It Makes You Think… Like Actually Think

You know when you’re just going through life on autopilot—work, eat, scroll, sleep, repeat?
Yeah… this book will interrupt that real quick.

Some essays had me just sitting there like,
“Wait… why am I like this?” 😭

And that’s exactly why I took my time with it.

I didn’t rush it. I couldn’t.
Because some essays? I had to read them again… and again.

Not because they were hard—but because they hit me right where it needed to.

And I needed that.
I needed that moment to pause and reflect on my life.

🧠 Rewiring the Brain (Yes, We’re Going There)

If you’ve been following this blog, you already know—I’m big on working on myself, romanticising life, and just trying to be better in my own little way ✨

And this book? It really pushes your brain to work in ways you normally avoid.

It’s like it brings up things you already know…
but you’re just not ready to act on.

Because let’s be honest—we love our comfort zone 😅

There’s always that little voice in your head saying,
“I know what I should do… but not today.”

This book calls that out.

Not aggressively… but enough to make you uncomfortable in a good way.

And honestly? Rewiring your brain, even a little, can change so much in your life.

🌺 Island Life & The Little Things

Living our island life, we’re surrounded by simple blessings every day—good food, family, sunshine, fresh air, beach days…

And we don’t even realise how lucky we are.

This book reminded me to slow down and actually see those things again.

To be grateful for what feels “normal” to us.

Because what’s normal for us… is someone else’s dream.

🔁 Yes, It Repeats… But Maybe We Need That

I won’t lie—some parts are repetitive.

You’ll read something and think, “okay, we’ve been here before” 😅

But maybe that’s the whole point.

Because we don’t change from hearing something once.
We change when it finally clicks.

📖 Take It With a Pinch of Salt

Now let me be clear—this book is not the holy bible.

Not every essay will apply to you.
Not every message will hit.

And that’s okay.

Take what speaks to you… and leave the rest.

At the end of the day, it’s just one more book—but one that can still add something to your perspective, your mindset, your way of seeing life.

✨ Final Thoughts: Worth the Read? Yes. Perfect? No.

It’s not perfect.
It’s not for entertainment like a novel.

But it’s real. It’s reflective. It makes you think.

And sometimes, that’s exactly what we need.

So if you’re ready to get a little uncomfortable, reflect a bit deeper, and maybe shift your mindset just a little…

Give it a try 💛

💬 Tell me…

Are you someone who actually sits with their thoughts… or do you avoid them? 😏

Until next time,

Valentine’s Day, World Book Giving Day & the stories that stayed

But this year, I want to celebrate something else too — books.

World Book Giving Day happens to fall on the very same day, and honestly, I can’t think of a better way to honour love. Because for some of us, books have been our longest relationships.

They stayed when people changed.
They waited patiently when life got busy.
They comforted us when we felt lonely.

They taught us how to feel deeply, think differently, and see the world with softer eyes.
Quietly, gently, they shaped who we are. 🤍📖

And if you’ve been following me for a while, you already know this:
I take love seriously.

I love my husband — deeply. He is my grounding being, my calm, my constant.
And I love books — fiercely, loyally, unapologetically.

Books made me me.
They shaped my perspective, my sensitivity, my inner world. They were there long before social media, long before adulthood, long before I even knew who I was becoming.

So today, let me talk to you — reader to reader, heart to heart — about my love for books. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll feel inspired to pick one up too.

🌈 Where it all began

My love story with books started early. Like… really early.

My first books were the Poldy sets — colours, time, shapes, places.
I remember sitting on my mother’s lap while she read Poldy Fly High to me. I must have been four.

Some books were read to me by my sister too.
Those moments felt warm. Slow. Safe.

Looking back now, I realise something simple but powerful:
that was the first time stories made me feel held.

📚 Comics, chaos & my brother’s influence

As I grew up, my brother became the real instigator.

He was the one buying books — mostly comics.
Garfield. Orson’s Farm. Felix the Cat. Asterix & Obelix. Tintin. X-Men.

He opened the door to reading.
I just walked in and never left.

Then came Enid Blyton — and suddenly I was dreaming of secret clubs, passwords, adventures, friendships that felt unbreakable.

The funny thing is, none of my primary school friends were readers. I don’t remember sharing books the way we share reels today. Reading was my thing.

So books became my private world.
The place I escaped to when everything felt too loud.

🕵🏽‍♀️ Becoming someone else (so I could be myself)

As I grew older, I didn’t just want to read stories anymore — I wanted to be part of them.

Christopher Pike.
Agatha Christie.
Nancy Drew. The Hardy Boys.

I wanted to belong to their worlds. I wanted their courage, their curiosity, the way they noticed things others missed.

In my imagination, I became Nancy Drew — but with the wit of Hercule Poirot, solving mysteries and piecing together clues, all while living inside the slightly dark, suspenseful universe of a Christopher Pike plot.

That’s how I read back then — fully immersed, fully invested.
I wasn’t escaping life. I was living another one through these characters, and I loved every second of it.

Those stories didn’t just entertain me.
They kept me company.

💌 Teenage years & borrowed romance

Let’s talk teenage years.

My romantic life?
Non-existent.

So books stepped in. Again.

Cœur Grenadine became my access to romance.
Yes, I was that nerd.
But through those pages, I felt tenderness, longing, butterflies — all the things real life hadn’t offered yet.

And you know what? I’m grateful.
Books held my hand when no one else did.

⚡ Hogwarts dreams & sacred borrowed books

And then… Harry Potter.

What a time.

The books were expensive, and I remember feeling embarrassed to ask my dad for them. So I borrowed them from friends.

And let me tell you — I treated those books like holy objects.
No dog-eared pages. No stains. No carelessness.

I waited for my Hogwarts letter.
I’m now in my 30s.
It never came.

Still waiting though. Just in case. 🪄

🌹 Books that met me too early… and right on time

Some books came into my life too early.

Le Temps des Amours — I was too young to understand it.
When I reread it later, everything made sense: the innocence, the friendships, the beauty of first love.

Then there’s Le Petit Prince.
If you know, you know.
A book I return to again and again, each time understanding it differently.

As a literature student, The English Teacher by R. K. Narayan stayed with me.
It taught me about simplicity, spirituality, and stepping away from materialism to find meaning.

Some books don’t just tell stories — they stay with you.

✨ Fiction as comfort & escape

As life moved on, fiction became comfort.

Sophie Kinsella’s Shopaholic series.
The Undomesticated Goddess.
The Language of Flowers — my forever favourite.

Stephen King. Chetan Bhagat. Nicholas Sparks. Jojo Moyes.

For a long time, fiction books were my best friends.
They helped me escape the mundane.
They took me places when I couldn’t move in real life.

📘 Falling in love with non-fiction (unexpectedly)

About five years ago, something shifted.

I slowly started reading non-fiction — and to my own surprise, I loved it.

These books made me feel powerful.
Knowledge-power. Growth-power.
That “let me get my life together” kind of power.

The 5 AM Club.
Eat That Frog.
The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari.
The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck.
You Are a Badass.
Becoming.
Ikigai.

They weren’t teaching me brand-new things.
They were putting into words what I already knew deep down — but needed to read, highlight, and absorb to actually live.

They taught me compassion — for myself, and for others.

⚖️ Escape & evolution

At one point, I wondered if this meant I was becoming a boring adult.

Then I realised something important:
growth is addictive.

Now I have a rule.
For every fiction book I read, I follow it with a non-fiction one.

Balance.
Escape and evolution.

☕ How I love my books (very seriously)

Let me tell you something.

I’m not a fast reader.

I pause.
I imagine.
I reflect.

I always cover my books with transparent plastic — like the good old days. No negotiations.
No makeup stains. No sweat marks. No damage.

I don’t eat while reading.
But I do love black coffee on a rainy afternoon ☕📖

Sometimes I fall asleep with my book.
And my husband — knowing how much I hate dog-eared pages — quietly slips a bookmark in for me.

If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is. 🤍

📚 What my bookshelf says about me

My bookshelf tells my story:

Dreamer → Seeker → Grower

If I could place one book in the hands of my 16-year-old self, it would be one about self-worth.

If I could gift one book to the world, it would be one about empathy.

💝 A Valentine’s Day thought

This Valentine’s Day — which is also World Book Giving Day — I’m reminded that love doesn’t always come wrapped in roses.

Sometimes, love looks like:
a book passed from one hand to another.
a story shared.
a world offered.

Fiction raised the dreamer in me.
Non-fiction is shaping the woman I’m becoming.

Books healed me.
Books continue to shape me.

So today, I celebrate love — by celebrating books.
And if you can… gift one.

Because stories, like love, are meant to be shared. 💌📚

Some books you read, enjoy, and move on from. And then there are books that sit with you — quietly, heavily — long after you’ve turned the last page. Verity was that kind of book for me.

I finished reading it on the 29th of December 2025, and honestly, I didn’t feel done with it at all. I closed the book and just sat there, staring at it, trying to process how uneasy I felt. That lingering discomfort? That’s when I knew Colleen Hoover did exactly what she intended to do.

🖤 Inside the Villain’s Mind

What really pulled me in was the decision to let us experience the story through what feels like a villain’s point of view. That’s a bold move. It’s uncomfortable. It forces you to sit with thoughts you don’t want to agree with, emotions you don’t want to understand — yet somehow, you do.

Reading those sections made my skin crawl, but at the same time, I couldn’t look away. It made me realise how complex human emotions really are. Jealousy, desire, resentment, fear — all tangled up with love. Verity doesn’t soften these feelings. It exposes them.

💔 Love or Obsession?

This book really messed with my idea of love.

In Verity, love doesn’t always feel warm or safe. It often feels obsessive, physical, and ego-driven. The intimacy is intense, almost consuming, but the emotional and intellectual connection feels fragile. I kept wondering whether the characters truly loved each other — or were simply addicted to what they gave each other.

Even the love for children, something we instinctively believe is unconditional, is portrayed in a way that feels unsettling and complicated. As a reader, that part hit hard. But maybe that discomfort is exactly what we’re meant to feel.

🤯 The Questions That Wouldn’t Leave Me Alone

When I finished the book, I wasn’t satisfied — I was curious. And unsettled.

I kept thinking: How does an author write such raw, villainous emotions so convincingly? Where does that depth even come from?

Some emotions described felt uncomfortably close to real psychological struggles. At moments, I even wondered whether certain behaviours could be linked to postpartum depression — or if that explanation is too simple for something so dark and layered.

And then came the thoughts I couldn’t shake:

• What if the truth we’re shown isn’t the whole truth?

• What if someone else was quietly pulling the strings?

• What if love, money, success, and jealousy were far more connected than we like to admit?

The fact that the book never gives clear answers is what makes it so powerful.

📚 Same Vibe as The Silent Patient

I read Verity back to back with The Silent Patient, and I couldn’t ignore how similar they felt. Same genre, same psychological tension, same feeling of constantly questioning what’s real and what’s not.

Both books rely heavily on silence, secrets, and unreliable perspectives. They don’t rush — they slowly unravel your trust. If you enjoy thrillers that play with your mind rather than action-packed chaos, this is definitely your lane.

🎬 Waiting for the Movie

Now that I’ve read the book, I can’t help but think about the movie adaptation. I’m excited… but also a little nervous. Verity is such an internal, psychological story that I wonder how it’ll translate on screen.

I’m really hoping the movie captures the intensity, the discomfort, and the ambiguity that made the book so unforgettable for me.

🌺 Final Island-Girl Thoughts

Verity is not an easy read — and it’s not meant to be. It’s unsettling, provocative, and intentionally confusing. It challenges ideas of love, motherhood, ambition, and morality, then leaves you alone with your thoughts.

I may have finished the book, but it definitely hasn’t finished with me.

And honestly? That’s exactly the kind of story I love.

There are moments when reading feels less like entertainment and more like a mirror — soft, unexpected, and a little too honest for comfort.

Recently, I read Happy Place by Emily Henry and The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides — two books from completely different genres, written with entirely different intentions, yet somehow circling the same quiet truth: human relationships are complicated, layered, and often shaped by what we don’t say.

One is soft, nostalgic, warm — the kind of book you read curled up, pausing to sigh and think about your own life. The other is dark, unsettling, and sharp — the kind that keeps you awake, questioning motives, silence, and the hidden fractures in people.

And yet, both stayed with me, lingering long after I closed the covers, like thoughts you carry into the quiet parts of your day.

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🌿 Different Genres, Same Emotional Core

At first glance, Happy Place and The Silent Patient have nothing in common.

One lives in the world of friendship, love, shared history, and summer homes filled with memories. The other lives in psychological tension, trauma, and silence.

But beneath the plotlines, both books explore how people drift, how they protect themselves, and how relationships change when communication breaks down.

Whether it’s friends growing into different versions of themselves or individuals retreating into silence because words feel too heavy — both stories ask the same question:

What happens when we stop being fully seen by the people who once knew us best?

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🏠 Happy Place & the Ache of Growing Apart

Happy Place felt painfully relatable.

It’s about friends who love each other deeply, yet are no longer living the same lives. Everyone has their own space now — different cities, different priorities, different rhythms.

And that hit close to home.

Because isn’t that exactly what adulthood looks like?

My friends in their own space. Me in my own space. Still connected, still caring — but no longer intertwined the way we once were.

What made the book so tender was how it captured that quiet grief we rarely talk about: the mourning of friendships that haven’t ended, but have changed.

No dramatic fallout. No big betrayal. Just distance. Schedules. Unspoken feelings.

You still love them, but you no longer live in the same emotional room.

And somehow, that hurts more than a clean ending.

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🖤 The Silent Patient & the Weight of Unspoken Pain

Then there’s The Silent Patient — a story where silence isn’t just emotional, it’s literal.

What struck me most wasn’t just the twist or the suspense, but how deeply it explored what happens when someone shuts down instead of reaching out.

Silence becomes a shield. A punishment. A form of survival.

It made me think about how often people choose silence because they don’t feel safe being vulnerable. Because speaking feels dangerous. Because being misunderstood feels worse than not being heard at all.

In a way, it’s the extreme end of what Happy Place gently shows — the final stage of emotional disconnection.

When words fail. When relationships fracture. When pain is internalized instead of shared.

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🌊 The Common Thread: We’re All Trying to Protect Ourselves

Both books reminded me of something important:

We are all navigating relationships while also trying to protect our hearts.

Some of us do it by pulling away quietly. Some of us do it by pretending everything is fine. Some of us do it by staying silent.

And sometimes, no one is the villain.

Just people growing. People hurting. People doing the best they can with what they have.

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✨ Why These Stories Matter

What I loved most about reading these two books back-to-back is how they reflected different emotional seasons of life.

Happy Place speaks to the soft ache of adulthood — the nostalgia, the longing, the acceptance.

The Silent Patient speaks to the darker corners — the consequences of suppressed emotions and unspoken truths.

Together, they remind us that relationships require effort, honesty, and sometimes courage — to speak, to listen, or even to admit when things have changed.

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🌙 A Quiet Reflection

Reading these books made me reflect on my own relationships.

Who I’ve drifted from. Who I still love deeply from a distance. Where silence has crept in. Where I could speak more gently, more honestly.

Maybe that’s the beauty of reading — not just escaping into stories, but returning to yourself with a little more understanding.

And maybe that’s okay.

Because growth doesn’t always look loud. Sometimes, it looks like turning pages and quietly recognizing yourself between the lines.

Until next time,

Reflections from an island girl learning to slow down but still glow up

I just finished reading Ikigai — and honestly, this book doesn’t just teach you how to live longer. It teaches you how to live better.

It’s soft and calming, yet deeply powerful. The kind of book that makes you question your pace, your habits, and even your purpose.

The Okinawans, who inspired the book, live in this beautiful rhythm — slow mornings, meaningful movement, laughter, gratitude, and purpose that flows gently through their days.

Meanwhile, here I am — juggling work, family, fitness, social life, goals, and an endless to-do list. I do what I love, but I can’t seem to slow down. My life feels like a checklist that constantly needs to be ticked off.

🌿 1. Stay active, don’t retire

Okinawans believe that movement keeps you alive — not just physically, but emotionally.

Here in Mauritius, our parents unknowingly live by this. They move constantly — cooking, cleaning, gardening, caring for others. Their activity is woven into their everyday lives.

Maybe the balance is in honouring both — doing what needs to be done, but also doing what keeps our hearts alive, you know. 

☕️ 2. Take it slow

This one is my biggest challenge.

Maybe I don’t need to stop chasing things — maybe I just need to stop rushing through them.

🥢 3. Don’t fill your stomach

Our grandmas knew what it meant to eat light, to sip herbal tea after dinner, to listen to the body. Today, with all the rush and all the good food available, we forget that food is fuel — not filler.

👭 4. Surround yourself with good friends

In Okinawa, they have moai — small lifelong circles of friends who support each other.

We have that too, in our Mauritian way — the family gatherings, tea-time laughs, Sunday lunches that turn into whole-day stories.

💪 5. Get in shape for your next birthday

When I tell my mom I’m going to the gym, she frowns and says,

“To pan assez galoupé pu zordi?!” (“Haven't you already done enough running around for today?!”)

Different generations. Same goal: longevity.

😊 6. Smile

A smile is the simplest way to lift the spirit — yet the easiest to forget when life gets heavy.

The Okinawans smile through everything. They know that joy isn’t the absence of problems; it’s the ability to keep your heart light despite them.

Maybe smiling is our best form of resilience. And this is what I do the best: Smilllleee :)

🌸 7. Reconnect with nature

We live on one of the most beautiful islands in the world — beaches, mountains, sunrise views that look like paintings.

Nature heals in quiet ways.

🙏 8. Give thanks

Gratitude doesn’t have to be dramatic. It’s in the tiny moments — your morning coffee, a quiet drive, your body’s strength, the people who show up for you.

Our grandparents prayed out of habit. We can too — not out of obligation, but appreciation.

🕰 9. Live in the moment

💖 10. Follow your Ikigai

For me, my Ikigai changes with time — but it’s always rooted in what keeps my heart aligned.

🌺 Our Mauritian version of Ikigai

Our Mauritian Ikigai might look like this:

• Sunday family lunches that feed more than just our stomachs.

• Evening beach walks with salty air and unfiltered laughter.

• Caring for others without forgetting ourselves.

• Moving our bodies not out of guilt, but gratitude.

• Living passionately — even when it’s fast-paced.