Stars on my wrist

I was clearing out an old jewellery box to give away yesterday, and I could hear something rattling around underneath the drawers. It could have been the back of an old earring, but something told me I should probably investigate further.

After shaking down the aforementioned jewellery box, I was not disappointed. Although there were in fact several earring backs strewn on the floor (which I dared not keep for fear of contracting tetanus), this little starry bracelet also fell out and made me very nostalgic.


My dad got me this celestial number when I was 15, on a cruise ship. I’m not sure if its actually worth anything, but I am super sentimental and treasure gifts given to me by loved ones. He gave my sister and I a choice between two, and I picked this one (the far less elegant & sophisticated option btw) only because:

‘I am a star, and as such it is only fitting that I should wear miniature versions of myself on my wrist.’ – (2015, R. Pais)

My ego, thankfully, has deflated drastically since then.



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