Awanthi Vardaraj

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The Fluid Nature of Friendship

I was wiser in my twenties than I give myself credit for. In an old blog, in another time, I remember writing, at the tender age of twenty-two, that some friendships had use-by dates. Sadly, I didn’t remember my own […]

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Pista-chio. (Beautiful, expensive, rich.) I have a bag of these, and I don’t know what to do with them. That’s rare for me; it’s rare that I don’t know what to do with an ingredient. But when it comes to […]

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Dusk in Paris

I’m thinking of you today, Marie. I’m thinking of the way we walked arm in arm down the Champs-Élysées, two carefree girls who felt beautiful and invincible; I remember the wonderfully strong coffee in that little café you insisted we try, and […]

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The Librarian – Memories of a Lost Childhood

I sometimes wake up thinking that I have to go to school again, and it fills me with dread before I realise that I never have to go to school again; I never have to walk to that cold building […]

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An Afternoon Spent With Paper Photographs

  There is an old shoe box that dwells on the top shelf of my closet. It is where paper photographs of my childhood reside. I spent a part of the afternoon sitting cross-legged on the floor of my closet, […]

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Tiny tiny town

“I just feel so wrong.” That was my favourite phrase when I was growing up and my friends learned to dread it. It was usually followed by my fervent wish that something would happen to get me out of the […]

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