Mary Caezar is a pseudonymous writer from the South. By all manner of means, she loves champagne and poetry. She is bizarrely enamoured with the Peter and Wendy story. She is vaguely fascinated to Vincent van Gogh and his The Starry Night work of art; and she’s also drawn to vintage. She loves to read sometimes. She writes things randomly a poem, a prose, a short narrative, a dramatic letter, an advanced eulogy to someone who has yet to die those sort of stuffs. She dreams to live in Amsterdam, someday.




Hi! I am Mary. I am kind of having difficulty on how am I going to introduce myself, let alone tell the name. You can describe someone you personally and wholeheartedly know—feedback wonderful adjectives or pronouns you can call them— but one of the few people you could hardly describe is YOU. Especially when you’re still learning to embrace who, what, and how you are; when you could hardly accept the person you have become. Well,  perhaps, this is just one of my manifestos. Because if there is one thing I am certain about myself despite of my so-called manifesto,… Continue reading WHY I AM HERE.

“Because of the lostness that myself have possessed through my mind, I yearn for the blank pages that anticipate to whatever kind of things I have to unbosom from my mind.”
—Mary Caezar

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