The intimacy of lists

and things I have loved this year

Reading people’s end-of-year lists feels a bit like stepping into a friend’s home for the first time. You notice the bookshelves, filled with authors they’ve loved or long meant to read, the stacks of cosy knitwear and the chipped ceramics that have served countless cups of tea.

Each detail tells a story, about the ordinary moments that mattered enough to be held onto.

This reminds me of my grandfather. When he passed away two years ago, I found a small handwritten shopping list on the kitchen side. Milk, bread, eggs, etc. All written in his familiar hand for a day he never got to see. I kept it in my wallet for a while, until it turned brown and then to dust, a small token of him and the simple world he left behind.

Perhaps it’s my deep sense of nostalgia but I find a quiet intimacy in the lists of others — each building a portrait of their inner world.

So here are some of my favourites of this year: partly for reflection, partly for fun.

Kitchen
White Mausa Rayu
Red Plum Osmanthus Tea
R…