There was no reply to my last text message. Never. Maybe too much wine is to blame. Maybe hunger and maybe cigarettes and maybe fear of the dark and maybe someone hurt her. Or it was lack of interest. Or solitude. Or unwillingness. Or selfishness. Or they. Or me. Maybe it was the winter. Hair falls from the palms to the ground and it is slowly getting colder outside…

It’s so perfect, that it brings me to all sorts of thoughts, and to silent madness, and the worst thing is the feeling that I don’t even deserve it all and that it’s too much and flawless. I don’t know where I would find a mistake if I was looking for one. I do not have a time. I’m busy. I am doing nothing and thinking about nothing and ice cream melts on my tongue and I cry here and there, just like that and Mia saves me from total collapse from happiness. I laugh at times and cry at times, and I am seldom calm. If this is happiness, then come and see, because this is what it looks like and this is how it should look like.

2 minutes read | 3 hours work

The white blank wall called for some posters from Desenio. Why not straight up six. I knew what shades I wanted to go into but it took me a long time to decide and combine the posters. I could say, a few days. I went for pastel colors, shades of purple, green and yellow. It is a cheerful and positive combination and I was not afraid of that step at all. I told myself that once the pictures bored me over time, I would not mind. I will hang them on the nail this time and, if necessary, replace the paintings with other ones. Desenio still has a few thousands to choose from.

My Christmas had all the prerequisites to be perfect. A decorated Christmas tree as it should be. A welcoming white friendly nutcracker in front of my flat door, Christmas decorations on the balcony, including lights on the railings, candles, new plates, from which no one has ever eaten before, and it never occurred to me that no one would. Just me. Not being lonely, not having these empty chairs, empty plates, empty glasses, a toast without clinking, bitter wine and dry tears. Without it all, this post would not have been created. And I would not realize what the biggest Christmas gift actually means to me.

2 minutes read | 4 hours work

She knew she would not even write a comma, because she mainly came there to perceive the atmosphere, scents and energy of the fashion world and to let it all flow through her whole body and mind. She wanted to remember it. As long as possible. It was supposed to be a beautiful moment. It was supposed to last as long as the beautiful moment was supposed to last. Every beautiful moment has its own watch and its own timer. Hemingway said. His Rolex Oyster Perpetual quietly counted 20:29.

2 minute read | 2 hours work

Never again will one of those days return. As I slept on an air mattress, surrounded by cardboard boxes full of clothes, spread out around me. Because that was what I had left. What life gave me and what it wanted to give. Large windows without curtains. Like eyes staring into my frightened soul. An empty unwritten and unfinished book. A book without a story or an end.

2 minute read | 4 hours work

dragging heavy bottles from a small store. Alternatively, they carried them empty again into sorted waste. An endless and tiring cycle. As a single woman, a woman who does not have or know anyone who could possibly bring such heavy bottles from the store, I welcomed Soda Now with open arms.

2 minute read | 2 hours work

This life is about racing with the wind. Who will run faster? Me or the wind. Whether the storm takes me with and devastates with me what comes in its way, destroys entire forests, breaks the trees, so they fall so helplessly to the ground. And never again, no one and nothing can put them back, whether it’s just a breeze who plays with my hair. And he tells me to go. To run.