<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" version="2.0"><channel><title><![CDATA[Salangai Stories]]></title><description><![CDATA[It is a portfolio site plus a site with class that I offer. Three main tabs on the top center: 'Services', 'Art',  'blogs', and 'contact'. Style is simple, clean, professional, earthy and warm aesthetic. The services showcase class offerings, and option to click into it and find out more. class offering includes 'story telling sessions' for children and families, fusion bharatanatyam dancing, and English teaching. 'art' will be a digital art gallery showcasing artwork like a portfolio. 'Blog' has the options to post new blogs but also link to my existing art reviews from other sites.]]></description><link>https://www.salangaistories.com/blog</link><generator>RSS for Node</generator><lastBuildDate>Tue, 26 May 2026 14:02:50 GMT</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://www.salangaistories.com/blog-feed.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title><![CDATA[A Neck, a Nerve, a New Life]]></title><description><![CDATA[I let out a yelp as my face crumpled into agony. My day began in bed—not rising from it as one would hope, but trapped within it. With clenched teeth and a bitten lip, I propped myself up against the bed frame. The cool brass met my skin, but offered no comfort. The pain in my neck was beyond excruciating. My head tilted involuntarily, my right ear collapsing toward my shoulder, as though my body was trying to tell me something was deeply wrong. As an aspiring performing artist, my solo dance...]]></description><link>https://www.salangaistories.com/post/a-neck-a-nerve-a-new-life</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69fda7897bccf7fb9df5bf84</guid><pubDate>Fri, 08 May 2026 09:06:25 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>salangaistories</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Finding My Place:  Lamentation and Liberation of a First Generation Immigrant]]></title><description><![CDATA[‘And, this is Frangelli,’ she announced enthusiastically with a bit of a dramatic flair. Just for a split second, it must have felt like an achievement to her. She had, apparently, effectively managed to pronounce my name- an ‘ethnic’ name. Except, she really had not and she would not have known it either because I stood next to her. Smiling sheepishly. I did not bother to interrupt and correct her. I let it slide. She carried on with her conversation. I continued to smile away. Awkwardly....]]></description><link>https://www.salangaistories.com/post/finding-my-place-lamentation-and-liberation-of-a-first-generation-immigrant</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69a64d95fe2730c041359b52</guid><pubDate>Tue, 03 Mar 2026 03:03:05 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>salangaistories</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Riverside Woman]]></title><description><![CDATA[‘If my life were a book, it would be called River City Girl,’ I announce with alacrity, addressing a class of strangers. ‘That’s interesting,’ said the facilitator of the course with a curious look on her face. There was a pause which signalled that I ought to elaborate. I attempted as succinctly as I could. I told them about how the Singapore River was the place I felt most at home in my country of origin and that because Brisbane was known as the River City, I had essentially flowed from...]]></description><link>https://www.salangaistories.com/post/riverside-women</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69a6475ea1cf5821abc8794a</guid><pubDate>Tue, 03 Mar 2026 02:35:01 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>salangaistories</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Schooled in the Colour Brown]]></title><description><![CDATA[“Why are all the Indian girls sitting together?” asked Mrs Veera loudly, pointedly. With eyes opened wide, and neatly threaded brows raised in disbelief and promptly furrowed into submission, she shot us a quizzical look. A piercing gaze we could not escape.  I saw the expression on Mrs Chee’s face. It read: I am just as puzzled as you are. Ironically, it seemed as though she was put on the spot and suddenly tasked with the duty of feigning concern that this was even noteworthy to begin with....]]></description><link>https://www.salangaistories.com/post/schooled-in-the-colour-brown</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69a6452aa1cf5821abc87585</guid><pubDate>Tue, 03 Mar 2026 02:23:44 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>salangaistories</dc:creator></item></channel></rss>