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pss. dont take me too seriously. i wont be the woman you met today, tomorrow. i can promise you that.

ps. i laugh a lot more than i cry now. its something im still trying to get used to. 

i’m not that deep, i promise. i just cant stop writing like this. its my only curse. the reason why my first friends were books. and authors, my first heroes. the reason why i feel home in bookstores. why if my house burned down, id probably die trying to save the books. save them.  because i couldnt bare to live alone. without them. 

first, thank you. and then….spirits keep me grounded. they are in the praying eyes of every person i meet. i trust divinity. and every so often my experiences lead me to places, people, or things that compel me to create a language for whatever it may be i am feeling or recognizing in the patterns of the human process. my story is ordinarily unordinary, things…

inspiration stems from a surrendering of sorts.  its not easy. requires a particular kind of vulnerability. thank you. im inspired by your inspiration. keep writing and absorbing new material. from all over the world. its a huge place. im not in chicago. wont be for a while. but you’re more than welcome to email me: aja@ajamonet.com 

feelings are seasonal. love is more than moments. its will that makes us last. the choice. every day is a choice. no matter the weather.

theres been rain outside my window. rumi on my mind. ben okri in my bed. a world is weeping in my body. the time is a warning of change. a future flowered with joy is resting in my chest. when i feel helpless i go bike riding and imagine gathering all this pain beneath my wings. and the sky is every where. we are all…