Depaysement | ramblings


The art of not belonging anywhere, I so impressively excel at.

For the longest time I believed it was my fate to always be split in between places. Always  on the road and never truly finding home. It’s like I’ve had my soul split between different places and I could never seem to find the glue to stick them all together, life always puled harder than I did.

Throughout the years I found places and people that only broke me more, split me more, and I became comfortable with my broken pieces. I found a flawed way to protect my self from being torn in between places and decided I’d be better off on my own. I’ve had enough, filled my quota and wasn’t taking on any new admissions. I was gonna become my own home. And I succeeded, although I shouldn’t have.

People are great, they add color to your life, and it’s quite a dumb idea to isolate yourself from them. The world will still mistreat you when you’re by yourself, and on top of that, at end of the day you won’t have anyone to turn your silence into music.

It wasn’t a bad life and it wasn’t a good one either. It was … lukewarm. I’m quite found of lukewarm feelings, they don’t tend to hurt.

I’ve read once about the Japanese art that consists of repairing broken pottery with gold. Kintsugi. Not only are they fixing the items, they are turning their flaws into value. I was broken, split, and somehow I found my gold. I’m still torn into pieces, but there’s something holding me back together. This is a really lame and shitty metaphor, I wish it wasnt so truthful.

And I don’t wanna say it aloud, I fear it’ll make it hurt more later on. But I’ve been feeling like I’m home. Whatever that means exactly. And the thought of losing it freightens me. For once, I’m scared to move on to the next thing. How many more places out there exist that’ll make you forget you’re missing a few pieces?

It’s not perfect, no place is. I’ve had some miserable days, I’ve been angry, frustrated and left with tears in my eyes. However, I haven’t found myself searching for an emergency exit, looking for an excuse to leave, like I did many times before.  Even when it sucks, it ain’t that bad.

It took me a while to find a place where I actually wouldn’t mind staying and a routine I wouldn’t mind falling into, and people who I wouldn’t mind splitting for. It took me a while to be willing to do that again.
Because life can beautifully ironic, the one time I wouldn’t mind staying, I’ll have to leave. And on one hand, I’m glad I won’t get a chance to over welcome my stay, it’s good to leave on a good note. To leave in a way I can still miss it later on.

However, I’m left to admit that I’m a furtive creature and I just wanna stay home.

bittersweet july | 2018 in pictures

I’m 25.

It’s not difficult to be 25. It’s not quite exciting either, but I don’t feel on the verge of a collapse and that can only be positive. I’m still fine, I’m still myself. And I am the girl I always wanted to be at 25. Ten years ago, when I though about cool girls in their twenties, I would have pictured someone in quite similar circumstances to mine, and I would dare to hope someday that would be me. Looking back, I must admit, it was quite more glamorous to dream about it than it is to become it.

I’m not unhappy though.

July didn’t felt like a crisis at all. It went by smoothly and it was a little bit more nostalgic than what I would have liked it to be, but it was expected, I guess.

With that being said, August brings Paris in his sleeve, and that can only be sweet.

38872939_481065248970559_5340761965373423616_nAn all time favourite: flowers at home.

38819611_679345979080502_3505932682183835648_nSlow mornings.

38872780_215687265767814_9185175015790739456_nLittle things.

imageBirthday pancakes with the best.

38804494_2232078490347098_179082677201141760_nSoaking up the sun.

38769175_294399824651256_5211684789240725504_nSunday strolls. 

38768508_2248532675174794_4759286319060877312_nMorning reads and coffee.



I never loved you more as much as I love the memory of you | ramblings

How the heart grows founder in the distance.
It’s been a while, yet I’ve never loved you
As much I love the memory of you today.

We go from sinners to saints when we pass the gate
But I don’t recall a single one of your mistakes
All you ever dared to do was love
And I can only aspire to ever be that brave.


In days like today, when I feel the least of myself, you often come to mind. How much you wanted me to be happy, to live a full life and love wildly. And I hold on to that. Your hopes and dreams for me keep me from fainting.
It’s funny that even after all those years, you’re still the one pushing me to be better. I’ve only known you for slightly more than a handful of years and the memory of you still hunts my days. I can’t go anywhere and not bring you with me.
I can’t hear your voice in my mind anymore, I can only recall how it sounded. Soft, slightly raspy, and joyful. You always talked like you were smiling.
It’s funny how my most vivid memory of you is from a sunny morning during summertime, the sun peeking through the blinds, you sitting at the edge of my bed, explaining to me what it meant to mourn. Your wife’s brother had passed, and when you told me she would be mourning, I asked you what that meant, I hadn’t been taught that yet. I must have been 6 or 7 at the time. I knew very little and I wasn’t the best kid, but you loved me still. And you cared for me, you always had my best interests at heart. You gave me a yellow bird, because I liked to help you take care of yours so much. You whistled everywhere you went, and taught me how to do it myself. Every other day you’d call me a different bird name. There’s lump in my throat every time someone ask about the hummingbirds, I still can’t bring myself to talk about you. Not as well as you deserve it.
I’m sorry for failing so terribly at doing you justice. I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to be better. For you. Because of you.

25 things I believe in at 25


  1. Love is not something you can search for.
  2. Circumstance and intent define when you fall in love.
  3. At first it’s never love, it is always lust.
  4. Emotional independence is not easy to achieve, but it’s even harder to let go off. 
  5. If you’ve had the same beliefs your entire life, you haven’t been learning much.
  6. Change is not something to be scared of. Even if it goes wrong, you’ll end up learning something.
  7. Success is being happy with your circumstances, and it’s nearly impossible to fully achieve.
  8. There is nothing wrong with mild happiness, you can be simply content with your life. Life doesn’t have to be a rollercoaster to be worth it.
  9. Hate requires an immense amount of effort. Waste your energy in something more valuable.
  10. Words are only as real as you allow them be.
  11. If you keep the malicious things you’ve been told about others to yourself, they will eventually die. You keep them alive by passing them on. 
  12. Slow early mornings cannot result in a bad day.
  13. People you’ve known for more than 10 years can still surprise you. And that’s not always a good thing.
  14. Home is not a place, it’s a feeling.
  15. No one is evil, no one is good. Perspective is a conflicting thing.
  16. There isn’t one definition of happiness. You can’t measure someone else’s happiness by using your standards.
  17. Mum and dad are the two most important people in the world.
  18. Expressing your feelings can never be a bad thing.
  19. Liking yourself is something to own, not something to be embarrassed about.
  20. Don’t look at what others are doing, it won’t add anything to your life.
  21. Beauty is a good enough reason to like something. Not everything needs a deeper meaning.
  22. Owning up to your mistakes always results in a better outcome than hiding them.
  23. Asking people about their life is not an intrusive thing if you truly care for them.
  24. As long as you’re doing your best, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.
  25. People will love you whether or not you allow it.


June, just June | 2018 in pictures

June, the last full month before my quarter of life crisis.

I can barely recall June, nothing really happened this month and that’s not a bad thing. It doesn’t mean it’s a good thing either… Besides having breakfast and lunch at the same spot several times a week, life has been pretty uneventfull. To be fair to June, the month was filled with good conversations, it seems that when life doesn’t give you lemons, you talk about making lemonade. From sunday afternoons at the beach to week mornings at the same old cafe, passing by late nights at cool new places, June was chatty.

I don’t normally mind the slow pace and similar days, it might be that my life crisis is approaching, but the fact that I can’t single out an even from the past month stings a little.

I wish life was a bit more that a quick succession of busy nothings. But then again, if it was, I would probably still be here, writing about being unsatisfied, as I often do.

Summer is also struggling to arrive, every other day it rains and the sun only comes out quite shyly. And I like winter, just not in summer.

June was also poor when it comes to pictures, so I don’t have that many photos to share here. May July bring sunnier days and more inspiration.


36324364_10216277335149843_2629671272610529280_nmornings outside


36331883_10216277245947613_7267082873830637568_ncoffee love

35476813_10216184341425058_2069621779323682816_nnew books


36458643_10216277244667581_814697275337998336_nblue(ish) skies


Dirty Pretty Things | month reads


Dirty Pretty Things by Michael Faudet was definitely an interesting read. I discovered the book through an Orion Carloto’s youtube video and the style seemed quite similar to Orion’s own book ‘Flux’ and Rupi Kaur’s books as well. Since I’ve recently became obsessed with that style of poetry, it was only fitting that I moved on to Faudet’s book.

The author has a couple more books I want to read – Bitter Sweet Love and Smoke & Mirrors are next on my wishlist – but I started with the loved Dirty Pretty Things.

After my previous reads of the same style of books I wasn’t quite expecting the book to be so… graphic. I adored it still, but Michael makes Rupi’s honest harsh writing seem delicate and pure. If you’ve read the book, I guess you can gather what I’m trying to explain here. If you don’t know his work then I must warn you that you ought to be fairly comfortable with some raunchy readings, to put it nicely. I wouldn’t say that it’s cheap, but it’s definitely vivid. Michael is not always here for your thoughtful metaphors, he often tells it like it is. With that being said, I do have to painfully admit that Faudet’s often falls into some expected cliches that don’t always work with me. But I’m still interested enough to order a few more books from him. Is was an easy, uncomplicated read, after all.

The book also got me interested in Lang Leav, Michael’s partner and fellow writer, who wrote a sweet note at the beginning of the book, so my next order will be something from her.




A quiet existence | ramblings


It’s the middle of June. I’m sitting at a cool coffee place. It’s sunday. It’s sunny. I could say I’m content. I wouldn’t say it’s hard to make me happy, but I’m still picky about it.

Happiness comes in many shapes and forms, and to me, happiness is to be left alone with my thoughts for a little bit. I don’t find being alone sad and lonely whatsoever, it’s quite the opposite actually. Bits like this one help me keep my sanity. There’s no pressure to say the right thing, to make the conversation flow, to avoid an awkward silence.
Silence is underrated. It doesn’t have to be awkward just because it’s quiet, sometimes you can just allow yourself to exist in stillness.

It’s a difficult thing to obtain: silence. An even harder thing to find? Silence for two.

People often thing that just because you’re quiet, you’re not connected. When in fact, to me, the goal has always been to find someone I can be quiet with.

As someone who is not the best with conversation, I often struggle to find the right words, and dealing with the pressure of finding the right thing to say can be quite overwhelming, especially when you’re trying to get to know someone.

But how do you get know someone if you don’t say anything? I guess words flow once the silence is comfortable enough. When you don’t feel the pressure to say something, you can talk about anything. And that’s what I want. An easy conversation starts with the lack of need to say something.

I guess I want the impossible. I’ve always wished for something that doesn’t quite exist. And I don’t bother to settle for less than my impossible standards. I’ve grown too comfortable in my own silence to let someone else disturbe it. I want someone who will do more than respect my silence, I want someone who will understand it and crave for it as much as I do.

I don’t think that’s impossible. Or even necessarily difficult. But I do know that’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I’m wiling to sit by myself for many more sundays until I find that perfect silence for two. In the meantime I can just waste my words here instead.