To each, our own.


© Keen Malasarte

And these are the kind of mornings that make you stop reality for a little while, a little bit content, a little bit yearning for what’s to come next. It’s a good day.
And so, this is how my afternoon went. Early Lunch at The Cleveland before work.

“My knees went weak at the thought,
at the sight, at the yearning for a love
so good it made you choose
to only look, to only be with
that one person for the rest of your life.”

—   Keen Malasarte, These are the thoughts I fall asleep to at 3am.

There’s no time for regrets

“I’m not half as good as people think I am.”

—   ten-word-story, #77

Something always brings me back to you

Early mornings spent with great company and a good cup of coffee is what lifts me.

“Seeing you again after all these years made me believe a person can fall for someone twice, or possibly even a third time. Just one look. One stare. One encounter at the right time, at the right place. How you can still feel that heart race, even though there’s no longer any chance of ever rekindling any sort of romance because of how events from the past fell and shattered your future. Every single time I see you, it’s like I’m reminded of the love I still have that never really left.”

—   Keen Malasarte, Sometimes I wish you would say something. Sometimes I wish you never look away and walk the other way.

bottledsalt said: I'm sure you get this question a lot, but where do you get your inspiration from? Sometimes, I feel that my real life experiences are not living up to my imagination - I want so much out of life and recently, I've found myself sitting alone with a blank notebook and pen, but all I can think about are the experiences I'm missing out on instead of devoting my thoughts to creating words. I don't know how to fix this craving and I'm afraid I'll never be able to.

Honestly, I get blocks too. Not just as a writer, but as a person. I feel like sometimes there’s just no depth or excitement in my life that somehow it almost feels stale and stagnant. There are days, very much like yours, where I stare at empty spaces and not be able to breathe out or write a single word and that’s okay. It happens. Many of us aren’t born with the best of luck, experience-wise, and I guess that’s where imagination comes in. You don’t always have to experience what you write, as long as you have the capability to feel and imagine yourself living through the things that you write about. And that’s always the most important part.

I feel like my lack of experience stems from me being so busy, and so distant from people that I choose not to let myself dwell and actually go through the act of doing. And I guess that’s where my inspiration comes in. Most of the time, I write about the things that could have been, you know? I pride myself as a great re-writer. Sometimes I think about the past, and let myself write about how great it would be if I could make it so much better. I write about a memory, and sometimes I picture myself being bold and courageous and actually trying something different for a change.

See, writing could be someone’s stress relief. But for others, it could also be a way for them to be the person they never got to be. Even if it is just fiction.


But we still laughed 
despite perspective, 
still met half way 
until those blinking lights 
of the city 
became too much 
to bare.
Good morning New York!Visit me today at Iconic Café, 238 lafayetteJust take the 6 to Spring Street and we’re right around the corner. 
All the noise turn white, 
as your words echo through 
my city below. 
I’d like to believe 
you speak of a language 
so foreign only I 
can make sense of.
El Rey Coffee Bar & Luncheonette
We’re exactly alike. So alike that we’d never work, but I can’t help that I miss you either way.

Turned my brother into my model after a sweaty afternoon, jogging around our neighborhood park. It’s that time of year again.