Episode 99: I love the sound of city rain...

Episode 100: Meander

Hope & Should such flaky words & flakiness has no place here sharp shapes of slate chipped my mind but then was made whole eventually in a winding way mistiful confusion then the path appears autumn fall fell into cosy comforts but don’t let the season fool you the place, the home is where you choose it to be where the heart is or could be choose home as a state of mind so yes, sharp shapes of slate may chip away but decide to be made whole holistically & eventually the suffocation & the morose heaviness imparted onto my wellbeing past my comfort baseline of melancholy hovering at the dipping point of the depressive state; but I go to New England for the Fall so I don’t fall Written by Anureet, background music by https://www.threads.com/@voltaires_inkwell [https://www.threads.com/@voltaires_inkwell] This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit anureetwrites.substack.com [https://anureetwrites.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

Episode 99: I love the sound of city rain...

I love the sound of city rain.. carrying with it the slightest spring chill, through a barely cracked window as I melt into the reprieve of a blankets gentle touch on my skin and a book's promise a new story waiting, as the softest breeze wisps around me like a whisper in a world far too loud who says we are bound by reality anyway? when turning pages can so easily take us away, and raindrops transform even the most ordinary day? I love the sound of city rain.. Written by https://www.threads.com/@toujours.ria [https://www.threads.com/@toujours.ria] This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit anureetwrites.substack.com [https://anureetwrites.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

Episode 98: Poetry Reading

Deep in a wood past overgrown dirt roads and lesser-traveled paths a cabin waits no longer abandoned but rejoined to the land Logs weathered to silver their growth rings holding time carved edges remembering the hands that shaped them Windows mirror only trees now vines draw the corners shut the roof bows gently to the slow grammar of seasons Long ago footsteps pressed into soil voices settled in the grain Light sifts through rafters like dust remembering air The hewn wood returns to the living tree, root and beam speak the same language And the forest patient as breath remembers everything and keeps its own Written by https://www.threads.com/@laurajmwrites [https://www.threads.com/@laurajmwrites] This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit anureetwrites.substack.com [https://anureetwrites.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

Episode 97: Until You Come Home

Until You Come Home I ache for the moment when we can simply be us, unraveled by distance, uncurled by time’s insistence. Let the hour arrive where hands find their map anew, where every touch redraws the familiar lines into poetry. You occupy my thoughts, my dreams, my heart; I long for you, and my pulse quickens in anticipation of the moment you come home to me. My love, I miss you. Until then, I listen for your steps in the hall, for the sound of your breath easing into mine, for the small rituals—coffee steam, a shared smile— that stitch the day’s fragments into a single thread. When you return, let the world fall away: the clock, the noise, the ordinary glare of daylight, and leave us in the soft gravity of your embrace, where every whispered promise is a dawn. Let me learn your mouth anew in the language of patience, let me memorize the warmth of your hand in the dark, let the quiet deepen until it feels like home— not a place, but a compass, always pointing true. And if the night keeps its own pace, if distance keeps score, we will write our own counter-melody in the margins of time: two voices, one pulse, a shared breath that never breaks. Written by https://www.threads.com/@lifeispoetrytoo [https://www.threads.com/@lifeispoetrytoo] This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit anureetwrites.substack.com [https://anureetwrites.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

Episode 96: The Art Of Being Unedited

Authenticity is not loud. It does not arrive dressed for applause, nor does it rehearse its entrance. It moves quietly through the body, like breath you forgot you were holding. It is the unedited version of you; the glance that lingers too long, the voice that trembles when it means something, the instinct you follow even when it costs you and it always costs you. There is a peculiar beauty in that kind of honesty. Not polished, not curated, but alive. It flickers in imperfections: in the way your thoughts spill out unevenly, in the moments you choose truth over approval, in the subtle refusal to become something more convenient, something less problematic...something not you. To be authentic is to stand in your own light without adjusting its temperature for others. It is the courage of being seen without translation. No softening. No distortion. Just presence; raw, specific, irreplaceable. And somehow, that is what draws people closer. Because authenticity does not ask to be admired. It simply exists, and in doing so, it gives others permission to exist more fully too. It says: you do not have to perform to be worthy. You do not have to edit yourself to be loved. There is beauty in that; quiet, defiant, enduring, and raw. The kind that does not fade, because it was never trying to be anything other than real. 🫶 Written by https://www.threads.com/@voltaires_inkwell [https://www.threads.com/@voltaires_inkwell] This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit anureetwrites.substack.com [https://anureetwrites.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]