Hi, I'm Silky.
writer · reader · overthinker-in-chief
this is my little garden. tap my things ↓
the smokes
“don't tell mum”
- Marlboro Red — the classic
- Marlboro Advance
- Classic Milds — daytime
- a stolen one always tastes better
the drinks
“editing fuel”
- whisky, neat
- Old Monk & coke
- black coffee at 2am
- cheap red wine
- chai — always
the reading pile
“the guilty, ever-growing stack”
- The Bell Jar — Sylvia Plath
- Norwegian Wood — Murakami
- Milk and Honey — Rupi Kaur
- anything with a tragic ending
on repeat
“scored to heartbreak”
- TV Girl — everything
- Cigarettes After Sex
- Lana Del Rey
- Arctic Monkeys — AM
- old Bollywood at 3am
the movies
“watched too many times”
- Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
- Call Me By Your Name
- anything Wong Kar-wai
- 500 Days of Summer
- Jab We Met — comfort watch
the flowers
“the ones that dry pretty”
- white tulips
- baby's breath
- sunflowers — on good days
- carnations
- dried roses
the long version
Hey. I'm Shreya — but everyone just calls me Silky.
I'm a writer, a compulsive reader, and a professional overthinker (it's on the business card, right under “dramatic pauses”). I grew up in Patna finding books boring if they didn't have pictures — and somehow became the kind of person who stays up till 2am to finish a series she swore she'd shut at midnight.
Somewhere along the way I started writing my own. Fiction, mostly. This little corner is where the leftover words end up — the stories, the incidents, the thoughts that were too loud to sleep on.
I don't think the good stuff is built from résumés and job titles. It's curiosity, consistency, and the courage to keep showing up. So — here I am. Showing up. Again.
— Silky ✷