I started Strange Notes because I wanted an open space to ponder on existence. That’s still true. But here, too, is a body discovering itself. A house beyond borders that’s open to you, to selves in search of, to heads seeking rest. A room where thoughts turn to words turn to records and meet you.
I share notes on my questions about life. I share art as paintings and music and books read. Art that shifts something in me (and possibly in you too). I share intimate conversations with friends and strangers. I share all these as Strange Notes and, sometimes, through the Strange View Podcast. In this place, there are no rules. Move the vase on the tabletop. Shift the curtains to the wall. Pull the rug to the ceiling. Place your eyes on the bookshelves. Just be.
I am Etashe [air-ta-shair], and I am a writer.
If you’d like to walk into the passage of my identity, you can start by reading Strange Notes, then absorbing some more of my published works and viewing my portfolio. And as you leave, please stop by this room: sign up for letters of consolation.