About

If our twenties have taught us anything, it’s that uncertainty comes with the territory. Oscillating between confusion, doubt and inner-monologues as we brave the storm of these formative years has become a daily occurance -chasing an elusive ideal of youth: tales of wisdom beyond our years, idyllic social life and contorted lithe selves as per the latest trend’s definition.

But the crooked road is one where tulips grow. The flawed, the raw, the crude is ineffably human, so why reject it? Why cling onto the pristine, picturesque yet soulless imaginary? Why let ourselves be robbed of any semblance of magic in the mundane?

Krudo embraces the voice within choking on its cries to create, the untamed and restless need to live wholeheartedly, and the inherent desire to cherish our imperfections, to view them not as foundering wounds to which we succumb but rather cornerstones to the construction of the self.

In prose, a serendipity for peace. In prose healing and heartache. Messy and ever so heavy is the human experience and inexplicably effervescent nonetheless. We fizzle out should our creative outlets be no more, so may we live and create ever so authentically, ever so incandescently human!