Letters from Bali

The Third Day

I washed my hair on Friday. It is Monday now, and I have not washed it since. What actually happens between washes, the two weeks nobody warns you about, and the honest limits of washing your hair ...

The Towel I Gave Away

A letter from Bali on the ninety seconds after the shower, why a terry towel undoes an hour of care, and the old cotton shirt I use instead.

The Comb I Keep by the Window

Three mornings after the eclipse, the crescent came back. A letter on the forty second hair ritual that actually changes something, and why the practices that work are almost always this small.

The Five Day in a Nine Month

Today is a five day inside a nine month. Five wants to move, nine wants to release, and the pull in two directions is not a sign that anything is wrong with you.

The Half of the Month Nobody Uses

The eclipse was yesterday. What almost nobody talks about is the fifteen nights that begin tonight, and what they are quietly for.

The Last Thirty Seconds of Your Shower

The part of washing your hair that almost nobody thinks about, and the one that decides how your hair behaves for the next three days. A letter on the final rinse, written on the first morning of A...

What a 9 Month Asks You to Put Down

July was an 8. August 2026 is a 9 universal month, the closing of the circle before September resets to a 1. A letter from Bali on what a 9 month asks you to finish, three questions to write by han...

What I Do in the Last Two Days of a Month

A small, practical ritual for the closing days of a month — three questions, one drawer, and a scalp oil practice. Written from Bali, the last Thursday of July.

The Lion's Roar in Your Hair, A Letter for Leo Season

Written from the porch in Pererenan, where the frangipani is dropping petals faster than I can sweep them. It's Leo season, and Bali knows it. The afternoons have gone gold and long, the roosters ...

The Number Six Day: A Numerology Note on Tending What You Already Have

A note on the numbers, for the ones who read them like weather. I did the small arithmetic this morning that I do most mornings — the one my grandmother taught me before I understood why she bother...