Riff

Daily scribble in English

The Inheritance of Kindness

I often find myself wondering — why is it so difficult for some people to be kind? Especially to those who serve them, quietly, day after day, without asking for much in return. A waiter at a restaurant, a house help, a colleague who takes the blame so the team stays safe. What makes someone raise their voice or dismiss another person’s dignity so casually?

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Why do people write?

I’ve often asked myself if it is vanity—an attempt to show off, to parade vocabulary and polish. Sometimes it is. There are diaries that were never meant to be read, and yet the handwriting curves as if anticipating an audience.

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When the Wind Returns to the Sail

A few months ago, I caught myself staring at a flickering cursor on an empty screen. No deadline. No urgency. Just an unsettling stillness. It wasn’t quite sadness, and it wasn’t burnout.

It was languishing—that quiet fog that dims even the good days, where presence is replaced by mere persistence, and joy becomes a distant visitor.

Oddly, I wasn’t alone in it.

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