1.0Soft Sensibilitieshttps://kimberlypearl.co/blogKimberlyhttps://kimberlypearl.co/blog/author/kimberlypearl-92gmail-com/rich600338<blockquote class="wp-embedded-content" data-secret="gCcw6UmCqy"><a href="https://kimberlypearl.co/blog/five-things-4-1-22/">Five Things (4.1.22)</a></blockquote><iframe sandbox="allow-scripts" security="restricted" src="https://kimberlypearl.co/blog/five-things-4-1-22/embed/#?secret=gCcw6UmCqy" width="600" height="338" title="“Five Things (4.1.22)” — Soft Sensibilities" data-secret="gCcw6UmCqy" frameborder="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" class="wp-embedded-content"></iframe><script type="text/javascript"> /* <![CDATA[ */ /*! This file is auto-generated */ !function(d,l){"use strict";l.querySelector&&d.addEventListener&&"undefined"!=typeof URL&&(d.wp=d.wp||{},d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage||(d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage=function(e){var t=e.data;if((t||t.secret||t.message||t.value)&&!/[^a-zA-Z0-9]/.test(t.secret)){for(var s,r,n,a=l.querySelectorAll('iframe[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),o=l.querySelectorAll('blockquote[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),c=new RegExp("^https?:$","i"),i=0;i<o.length;i++)o[i].style.display="none";for(i=0;i<a.length;i++)s=a[i],e.source===s.contentWindow&&(s.removeAttribute("style"),"height"===t.message?(1e3<(r=parseInt(t.value,10))?r=1e3:~~r<200&&(r=200),s.height=r):"link"===t.message&&(r=new URL(s.getAttribute("src")),n=new URL(t.value),c.test(n.protocol))&&n.host===r.host&&l.activeElement===s&&(d.top.location.href=t.value))}},d.addEventListener("message",d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage,!1),l.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded",function(){for(var e,t,s=l.querySelectorAll("iframe.wp-embedded-content"),r=0;r<s.length;r++)(t=(e=s[r]).getAttribute("data-secret"))||(t=Math.random().toString(36).substring(2,12),e.src+="#?secret="+t,e.setAttribute("data-secret",t)),e.contentWindow.postMessage({message:"ready",secret:t},"*")},!1)))}(window,document); //# sourceURL=https://kimberlypearl.co/blog/wp-includes/js/wp-embed.min.js /* ]]> */ </script> 1. I’m writing this from my parent’s home (the wood of the dining table is a dead giveaway of how aesthetics have shifted between generations) and no matter how old I get, I always resume the role of Child the moment I see them. My dad picked me up from the airport with a takeout container of dinner for the drive back from Newark Airport (as he always does), reminding me to chew the savory sticky rice slowly as if I was still five, impatient, starved. (I’m still the last two, though.) Also freshly prepared was homemade soy milk in a thermos—still steaming hot—to help wash the meal down and soothe my post-flight tummy. I’m the luckiest girl in the world. Everything I have now is because of my parents’ love and sacrifices. 2. This year I decided that on the first of every month, I would read an entry out of Anaïs Nin’s diary. Our lives are nearly a century apart, and yet—I can’t help but find (or want, hope, to find) similarities between the lines. Her epiphanies are shared, her aphoristic realizations also in tandem with mine. I know; I’m projecting. But isn’t that the magic of books? I…https://kimberlypearl.co/blog/wp-content/uploads/2022/04/anais-nin-diary-volume-11-april-1935.jpg