@officialbarbarakumari
@officialbkumari.bsky.social
I write the dreams that don’t know they’re dreams yet.
August ends not with a bang,
but with a half-melted candle and a whisper from the rug.
but with a half-melted candle and a whisper from the rug.
September 1, 2025 at 5:34 AM
August ends not with a bang,
but with a half-melted candle and a whisper from the rug.
but with a half-melted candle and a whisper from the rug.
You don’t have to be productive.
You can just be peculiar.
You can just be peculiar.
August 31, 2025 at 5:33 AM
You don’t have to be productive.
You can just be peculiar.
You can just be peculiar.
I rearranged the furniture and upset the balance of power.
The chair by the window is smug now.
The chair by the window is smug now.
August 30, 2025 at 5:32 AM
I rearranged the furniture and upset the balance of power.
The chair by the window is smug now.
The chair by the window is smug now.
Even the spoons seem existential today.
August 29, 2025 at 5:30 AM
Even the spoons seem existential today.
There are hours of the day
that feel like they’ve slipped through a crack in the timeline.
that feel like they’ve slipped through a crack in the timeline.
August 28, 2025 at 5:29 AM
There are hours of the day
that feel like they’ve slipped through a crack in the timeline.
that feel like they’ve slipped through a crack in the timeline.
I don't hoard objects.
I rescue them from obscurity and let them haunt me gently.
I rescue them from obscurity and let them haunt me gently.
August 27, 2025 at 5:28 AM
I don't hoard objects.
I rescue them from obscurity and let them haunt me gently.
I rescue them from obscurity and let them haunt me gently.
If I go missing,
assume I’ve wandered into a used bookstore and forgotten time exists.
assume I’ve wandered into a used bookstore and forgotten time exists.
August 26, 2025 at 5:28 AM
If I go missing,
assume I’ve wandered into a used bookstore and forgotten time exists.
assume I’ve wandered into a used bookstore and forgotten time exists.
Sometimes I feel like a sock in the laundry cycle—
briefly warm, constantly spinning, and never quite where I expect.
briefly warm, constantly spinning, and never quite where I expect.
August 25, 2025 at 5:26 AM
Sometimes I feel like a sock in the laundry cycle—
briefly warm, constantly spinning, and never quite where I expect.
briefly warm, constantly spinning, and never quite where I expect.
There’s always one drawer that refuses to open smoothly.
That’s where I keep my unresolved character arcs.
That’s where I keep my unresolved character arcs.
August 24, 2025 at 5:25 AM
There’s always one drawer that refuses to open smoothly.
That’s where I keep my unresolved character arcs.
That’s where I keep my unresolved character arcs.
Every houseplant is a tiny drama.
I water them like I’m breaking bad news.
I water them like I’m breaking bad news.
August 23, 2025 at 5:24 AM
Every houseplant is a tiny drama.
I water them like I’m breaking bad news.
I water them like I’m breaking bad news.
The more I declutter,
the more I realize I’m just curating a personal museum of peculiar decisions.
the more I realize I’m just curating a personal museum of peculiar decisions.
August 22, 2025 at 5:23 AM
The more I declutter,
the more I realize I’m just curating a personal museum of peculiar decisions.
the more I realize I’m just curating a personal museum of peculiar decisions.
Today I found an acorn in my bag.
I haven’t been near an oak tree in weeks.
I took it as a sign. Of what? No idea.
I haven’t been near an oak tree in weeks.
I took it as a sign. Of what? No idea.
August 21, 2025 at 5:23 AM
Today I found an acorn in my bag.
I haven’t been near an oak tree in weeks.
I took it as a sign. Of what? No idea.
I haven’t been near an oak tree in weeks.
I took it as a sign. Of what? No idea.
Even the soap dish has seen some things.
Probably more than I have.
Probably more than I have.
August 20, 2025 at 5:21 AM
Even the soap dish has seen some things.
Probably more than I have.
Probably more than I have.
The moth in my room keeps circling the lamp.
I respect a creature that mistakes light for salvation.
I respect a creature that mistakes light for salvation.
August 19, 2025 at 5:20 AM
The moth in my room keeps circling the lamp.
I respect a creature that mistakes light for salvation.
I respect a creature that mistakes light for salvation.
If the paint peels just right,
you can almost read what the walls were trying to say.
you can almost read what the walls were trying to say.
August 18, 2025 at 5:19 AM
If the paint peels just right,
you can almost read what the walls were trying to say.
you can almost read what the walls were trying to say.
I think in layers.
Sometimes the top one is just fog.
Sometimes the top one is just fog.
August 17, 2025 at 5:18 AM
I think in layers.
Sometimes the top one is just fog.
Sometimes the top one is just fog.
The quietest part of the day
is always when the kettle starts to sing.
is always when the kettle starts to sing.
August 16, 2025 at 5:17 AM
The quietest part of the day
is always when the kettle starts to sing.
is always when the kettle starts to sing.
The floor creaked in Morse code again.
Something about overdue library books.
Something about overdue library books.
August 15, 2025 at 5:17 AM
The floor creaked in Morse code again.
Something about overdue library books.
Something about overdue library books.
I like my notebooks slightly dog-eared.
Keeps the prose humble.
Keeps the prose humble.
August 14, 2025 at 5:13 AM
I like my notebooks slightly dog-eared.
Keeps the prose humble.
Keeps the prose humble.
Sometimes I walk into a room and forget why.
Other times, the room forgets me.
Other times, the room forgets me.
August 13, 2025 at 5:01 AM
Sometimes I walk into a room and forget why.
Other times, the room forgets me.
Other times, the room forgets me.
Last night I dreamed of a house with no doors.
Only archways, a crow in the rafters,
and walls that breathed like they’d waited.
This week’s dispatch is for the weary-hearted—the ones who need a place that doesn’t ask them to heal, only breathe.
officialbarbarakumari.substack.com/p/a-house-wi...
Only archways, a crow in the rafters,
and walls that breathed like they’d waited.
This week’s dispatch is for the weary-hearted—the ones who need a place that doesn’t ask them to heal, only breathe.
officialbarbarakumari.substack.com/p/a-house-wi...
A House with Breathing Walls
Last night I dreamed of a house I’ve never lived in, but it felt like mine.
officialbarbarakumari.substack.com
August 12, 2025 at 3:18 PM
Last night I dreamed of a house with no doors.
Only archways, a crow in the rafters,
and walls that breathed like they’d waited.
This week’s dispatch is for the weary-hearted—the ones who need a place that doesn’t ask them to heal, only breathe.
officialbarbarakumari.substack.com/p/a-house-wi...
Only archways, a crow in the rafters,
and walls that breathed like they’d waited.
This week’s dispatch is for the weary-hearted—the ones who need a place that doesn’t ask them to heal, only breathe.
officialbarbarakumari.substack.com/p/a-house-wi...
My socks never match,
but they do collaborate.
but they do collaborate.
August 12, 2025 at 5:00 AM
My socks never match,
but they do collaborate.
but they do collaborate.
I don’t clean to tidy things.
I clean to make space for the ghosts to stretch their legs.
I clean to make space for the ghosts to stretch their legs.
August 11, 2025 at 4:59 AM
I don’t clean to tidy things.
I clean to make space for the ghosts to stretch their legs.
I clean to make space for the ghosts to stretch their legs.
My favorite weather is the kind that makes the sky look like it's up to something.
August 10, 2025 at 4:58 AM
My favorite weather is the kind that makes the sky look like it's up to something.
There’s a smell in the air that says,
“Change is coming.”
Or maybe just burnt toast.
Hard to tell.
“Change is coming.”
Or maybe just burnt toast.
Hard to tell.
August 9, 2025 at 4:57 AM
There’s a smell in the air that says,
“Change is coming.”
Or maybe just burnt toast.
Hard to tell.
“Change is coming.”
Or maybe just burnt toast.
Hard to tell.