Celebrity Life

It starts with a fog. A sort of blur where you can just begin to see glimpses of light and dark. Those movements become soft silhouettes, shifting in the back of your mind – still just out of reach. It is what happens when we are out of the practice of being present. We see something, but it’s too out of focus to become a concept we can grasp.  We are too distracted; we are too overwhelmed. We try harder. Concentrating on the moving figures, trying to imagine what is behind our eyes – imagining what we want it to be. Creativity steps in. We begin to fill in the blanks. Making assumptions from the abstract shapes now taking form. They start to come to life. Figures dancing, wind blowing. We begin to feel that moment, placing ourselves in a realm all but forgotten.  The more we seek, the more we see. And the deeper we look, we discover layers and layers within and without. Until, at last the picture starts to become clear. Then, …

It’s here. That cold that licks your bones and laughs as the deep chill spreads like liquid nitrogen through your veins. The warm glow from the holidays disappears like a candle being snuffed out, leaving nothing but darkness in its wake. And, though the earth’s orbit tells us daylight has just begun to extend itself once again – Us creatures of the sun know now begins the longest days of the year.  The frost has burned itself onto every surface, and the living seek refuge underground where a hint of earth’s warm heart can still be felt.  And now, there’s no escape. We are trapped here, with borders closed and restrictions barring us from warmer refuge. Where will we run to now? Home. They say home is where the heart is, but mine longs for rays of sun penetrating my icy cold flesh with heat rays of welcome embrace. I long for the sea and the sounds of birds and dancing trees.  The elements are unchanged. The air is still here, but the warm breeze …

Penned in 1942, the 'Lolita' author's "The Man of To-morrow’s Lament" questions the Man of Steel's ability to have a physical relationship with Lois Lane

Over his 101-year life, the poet and activist created spaces for artists to thrive — but he also helped transform the sound of American poetry

The Beat poet and founder of City Lights bookstore and imprint inspired artists from Bob Dylan to Cyndi Lauper

The Singapore Literature Prize virtually crowns Marylyn Tan for her debut collection, Gaze Back.

The post Singapore Literature Prize gets its first female winner for English poetry appeared first on The Peak Magazine.

The Singapore Literature Prize virtually crowns Marylyn Tan for her debut collection, Gaze Back.

For more stories like this, visit www.thepeakmagazine.com.sg.

I believe that who we are exists somewhere between reality, emotions and fantasy. There are times our emotions tell us things our mind simply cannot. Who we love. How much pain we can bare. What makes us happy. Fantasy is the next level, and perhaps the most raw essence of self. It tells us who to trust. It gives us that gut feeling that we can neither create or ignore. It is a realm where our creativity and imagination are truly limitless, without the restraints of physics or science. People often dismiss the part of themselves driven by fantasy. But why? Why turn away from the only part of yourself in which you have complete control and direction. The place you can be anything you choose. They say it’s not real. It’s just a dream. But aren’t dreams what drive people to accomplish incredible things? Hasn’t every visionary and leader of every generation first started with nothing more than a dream. Believing only in reality is a trap. You’ll never grow past the things you …

How did we get here. We stood there in the breeze. That moment was right. Even if the road leading there wasn’t perfect. Even if tomorrow was not going to be ok. We stared into the distance. The silent mountains bathed in the clearest of spring lakes. The setting sun slowly painted and re-painted the horizon. Hues changed from the vivid lakes and trees of the day. Sunset transformed the earth to gold. Dusk settled in smokey pinks and blues. It was like watching the earth become reborn overnight. Everything old melted with the sun, only to be brought back to life more beautiful each time. Life has seasons. Some colorful and exciting. Some are crisp and clear, letting you see for miles. Some seasons are hazy and dark. Sometimes it feels like the sun may never rise again. Yet, that beautiful circle of light rises each day. Every day we are reminded we have something to be grateful for. Everyday is reborn, with a chance to start everything new.   We often can’t see …

The clouds swirl in motion from the movement of the plane. The light is bright white, like being covered in a new sheet.  There’s nothing quite like the rush of energy that comes from being 25,000 feet in the air. Running away from reality for the weekend. From the east side to Europe, the next 6 days will be spent wandering the streets of Milan for an afternoon – then shifting to Lugano for a week of design work in the studio under the Swiss mountains. The feeling is adrenalizing. I’ve spent a lot of time spinning dreams in my head as of late. Letting go of safety lines, the temptation to be truly free from restraints has been overpowering. First class, FENDI, sipping a Tito’s and OJ, overlooking the world mixed in a heavy fog below, it’s not hard to imagine. Safety has brought me where I sit here today. It’s been my constant. I made my safe bets and found a way to achieve a certain level of success in reaching my dreams …

The sun had just begun its last descend. We had arrived there for a purpose, but that purpose was quickly lost. The golden sky-paint was kissing the stones and sea. The faint smell of rum and ocean beings came in waves with the breeze. The sound of reggae could be heard faintly playing on a beach far off. It was all too perfect to focus on anything but that. We had arrived to Costa Rica, on the sandy sunset beaches of Tamarindo. photography:JOSH WOLFE MUSIC | camera:CANNON 5D MARK III | silk dress c/o:GIGI MODA   Our hearts were stirred and as if we had became a part of this place. A sort of blissful drunkenness swept over. Not from the rum punch or local beer, but from the air itself. A feeling of light and movement consumed us. The sand was soft, and just cooling from the afternoon sun. The water had a crisp bite that ways playful and inviting in the warm air. A group of a dozen comrades joined us there. A …

Soft and subtle. Warm and safe. It’s not who you are; it’s the way you make me feel. A fire crackles behind me, a sound competing only with the rain dropping on the skylights above. Naizak sleeps just between myself and the back door, probably the coolest place she can find while keeping me within sight. The afternoon was spent with delightful guests over a light brunch and a few (dozen) bottles of champaign. It’s a comfortable feeling having spent the day surrounded by people you love, and ending in silence and time to reflect. photography:ME | camera:CANNON 5D MARK III | white lace dress c/o:ML Monique Lhuillier   There are some people you encounter that touch you differently, more deeply than others. The people that can, from a single glance, capture your thoughts, feelings and the deepest parts of your soul. They know. They see you. They don’t have to say anything, or even react. It’s an awareness. A different level of existence where you coincide on the same plain. They can speak to …