Category: The London Journal
It is a collection of ink-stained commutes through the City and late-night gallery visits where I looked at modern paintings to understand my own modern anxieties. But mostly, it is a record of the meals. I found my footing in the West one small plate at a time—from the sterile, hushed brilliance of Michelin-starred dining rooms to the steam-fogged windows of Soho’s best-kept secrets.
These posts are the “sponge years.” They document the quiet, often messy process of a young Malaysian woman translating a foreign culture through its menus and its masterpieces. It was a time of ferocious creative tension, where I was a lawyer by day and a seeker by night, trying to see if I could make the “London life” fit as comfortably as a well-tailored coat.
It is, in essence, the autobiography of an appetite—for art, for identity, and for a life that tasted like something real.
