Wherever we go.

What reconciles me to my own death more than anything else is the image of a place: a place where your bones and mine are buried, thrown, uncovered, together. They are strewn there pell-mell. One of your ribs leans against my skull. A metacarpal of my left hand lies inside your pelvis. (Against my broken ribs your breast like a flower.) The hundred bones of our feet are scattered like gravel. It is strange that this image of our proximity, concerning as it does mere phosphate of calcium, should bestow a sense of peace. Yet it does.

With you I can imagine a place where to be phosphate of calcium is enough.

(Extract from “And our faces, my heart, brief as photos”, by John Berger)


Saturday was spent in and out DIY shops. Usually my heaven on earth, but today was full of frustration. In the end I managed to find what I was looking for (had to drive all the way to Basildon, though) and then back home for a warm bath and italian delivery.

Stretches of seas apart.

“When you’re alone most of your life, you wonder if you’re capable of such loves that sound like they are made of silliness and magic. But our lifelong friendship is always pulling me back. And my slow journey back to him is what defines this kind of quiet love that shapes, for me, the very best friendships.

The true loves in my life have always been hard to describe, and so very often, I don’t say much out loud. A squeeze of a hand or a wink from me feels like I’m climbing a mountain. But the things that are left unsaid are the things that have mattered most. The dear friends of mine know how much I love them and, stretches of seas apart, I feel it too.”

(“A Dear Friend”, by Crissy Van Meter)

Gray, dull, wet, cozy, lovely.

Descobri que muita gente aqui não gosta de fazer aniversário no inverno. Mas eu, equatorial summer baby suando por décadas no décimo quarto dia do ano, estou agora no meu elemento. Janeiro é um mês quase que universalmente odiado aqui. E agora é um dos meus favoritos. Café, pick and mix da Wilko, velas perfumadas, celular novo, livros bonitos, espelhos sujos, manicure vermelha. Pode chegar, idade nova. E traga bolo.

Merry Christmas.

❝I hope you find a cozy home in yourself instead of wishing you were more this or less that. I hope you see something in yourself worth loving and protecting. I hope you find something that brings you comfort and lessens the loneliness. I hope you go on long walks and drink your favourite tea. I hope you have books, daydreams, paintbrushes, music and other escapes to hold on to when you have nothing else. I hope you continue to try even when you’re tired and can’t see the end. I hope unexpected good things come to surprise you. I hope you meet someone who lights up your life and makes up for all the goodbyes and endings that came before. I hope you’re going through your day and feel a sense of lightness all over and wonder to yourself, maybe it’s all going to be alright. I hope you make yourself proud. I hope you make new memories full of warmth and peace to replace the bad ones. I hope your heart will be surrounded with flowers, trees and stars. I hope everything gets better for you.❞