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Wednesday, 16 September 2020
catching up with some random images
taken over the last month or so.
celebrations,
our kitten Amandine entered the scene,
late summer shifting
towards deeper autumn tones,
personal projects,
alluring light amid the strangest of times.
x
Wednesday, 1 July 2020
rainy day, baking day.
the soundtrack of Normal People on repeat.
summer calls for no recipes,
simplicity, spontaneity.
fresh raspberries & blueberries
crush and melt in the mouth.
I taste freedom,
I taste ease,
I'll say it
– happiness.
x
Tuesday, 3 March 2020
the coolness of stone on a balmy day.
gentle strides brushed against ancient footsteps,
like links in a ceaseless chain.
dreams floating to the ceiling,
escaping through the crevice towards the clouds…
a mother’s love bulging at its seams.
Saturday, 1 September 2018
"Italy Stories, a beginning"
have been staring in the face over the last few weeks.
There's plenty more on those lines to share right here,
but things have been, well, a bit hectic.
Hectic but serene at the same time.
You see,
a huge project fell through,
a project that I was already stressed about during the summer holidays,
and this turn came as a relief I have to say.
Plenty of better things were waiting around the corner,
a number of smaller gigs that happened to fall around the same time.
Much nicer ones than the one I was sort of dreading.
And I've learned something in the process,
something of trust,
swearing under my breath not to say 'yes' to the wrong things
the next time round,
even in a moment of despair.
And although it's been mad busy,
there's been a sense of new things on the horizon,
an autumm, which awaits like a journal,
the first pages leaving a little breathless,
but beyond, pages inviting in their exquisite promise of unknown opportunities.
This weekend I've also said my goodbyes.
The workspace I've had the pleasure of winding my way to
on and off over the last few years
awaits its new, wonderful tenants.
A creative couple I admire so brought in their cardboard boxes,
a huge painting wrapped up and leaning against those windows I loved so,
as I left my key on the table & closed that door for the last time.
Although the goodbyes are bittersweet,
I know this is how it's meant to be.
The roses might be nearly gone,
but there are plenty of flowers in this season.
A little odd in their beauty sometimes
& wonderful all the same.
Treasures in the shadows
waiting for us to take notice.
waiting for us to take notice.
x
Saturday, 9 June 2018
we drove out of town today.
popped to a second hand market
held in a former railway station building,
then carried on to a farm.
had a staring contest with the cutest highland cows
(although we did wonder whether they even saw anything
from under their fringes :)),
stroked a cat
that sounded like a sewing machine
with all that purring,
admired some horses & sheep from afar.
had a coffee & flicked through Danish interior magazine candy
in an old barn that's now a lifestyle shop cum café.
returned home with our lungs full of country air,
ready for some rest.
x
Monday, 19 March 2018
On Saturday, we took a little escapade.
Sat on a bus through a landscape of fields,
a dog darted across a meadow,
behind the trees the sea.
The sun threw orange puddles over the passengers' faces,
blinded the eyes,
but no one drew the curtains for cover.
Everyone thirsty for golden heat.
Happiness took hold in that moment.
I notice that for me a sense of happiness
often intertwines with the feeling of freedom,
crystalized during journey-making,
even if a simple bus ride to a nearby town.
We did our customary rounds of the little boutiques,
lunch in peace,
coffee & cake at our usual haunt
under the shadow of a mural on the far wall.
Outside the white church,
black-clad mourners gathered for a funeral.
On the way back,
my daughter all tired and quiet after a long day,
I was mesmerized by the conversation of two ladies a row behind.
One roughly in her fifties,
the other, silver-haired, perhaps eighty or so.
They talked deeply about life,
loneliness and its different forms,
how the elderly lady had intentionally chosen to live alone
and had no regrets.
They spoke with such respect and depth,
as equals,
friend to friend,
leaving me gasping at how rare it was
and what a warm glow it radiated around.
People so often talk to the elderly
as if they were children
or already removed from normality and emotions.
And how much gets lost
when we talk past
and not with each other.
Teimme lauantaina retken.
Bussilla halki peltomaisemien,
yhdessä kohtaa viiletti koira pellon poikki,
sitten siinsi taas meri.
Aurinko heitteli matkalaisten sekaan oransseja läikkiään,
se sokaisi silmät
eikä kukaan vetänyt verhoja suojaksi.
Taitaa kaikkien iho janota kultaista lämpöä.
Tunsin oloni onnelliseksi juuri tuossa.
Mietin, että minulla se onnentunne tuppaa sekoittumaan vapaudentunteeseen
ja tiivistyy juuri matkalla,
vaikkapa sitten vaatimattomasti bussilla lähikaupunkiin.
Perillä tutut putiikit, lounas,
kahvit Helmen pöydässä
seinämaalauksen alla.
Valkoisen kirkon pihamaalla hautajaissaattue mustissaan.
Kotimatkalla matkasta väsynyt ja hiljainen lapsi.
Hurmioiduin kahden ruotsinkielisen rouvan keskustelusta rivi taempana.
Toinen karkeasti viisissäkymmenissä,
toinen jo harmaahapsinen, ehkä kahdeksankymmentä.
He keskustelivat syvällisesti elämästä, yksinäisyydestä,
siitä kuinka vanhempi rouva oli tietoisesti valinnut yksinelämisen
eikä sitä kadu.
Kunnioittavasti, syvällisesti ja tasavertaisesti,
ystävä ystävälle,
ja minä äimistelin sitä,
miten harvinaista se onkaan,
kun niin usen vanhuksille puhutaan kuin lapsille
tai kuin olisivat jo elämästä ja tunteista vieraantuneet.
Ja miten paljon sitä jääkään paitsi,
kun puhutaan ohi eikä kanssa.
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