Mês: dezembro 2019

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future overflow

you are in the faint line
between her courage and
her blind waiting

she doesn’t need you to fill empty parts of her. she’s full on her own. she wants you to overflow her — together in deluge you’ll cruise throughout deep and dazzling connection rivers.

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stay still, just be

owning a heart gives her such a push-pull feeling, wanting to break open and shut down simultaneously. the goosebumps. the tingling. the ache to run. the desire to deeply connect. stay still.

from a place of doing to a place of been. change. growth. lean back. trust. let be.

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karoline

Girl With Balloon, Banksy | Photo by @ericjamesward Berlin, Germany

you were so tiny and funny when you first got home. I could play and care for you as I had plenty of experience playing with dolls. the way I tought you how to walk and the way you laughed at my silly songs still make me smile. your hair was always messy and you were always getting into trouble, eating soap or hiding yourself under the beds. the way you cried when I brought my first boyfriend home was cute, like you were protecting me from getting hurt, I felt loved by your jealousy. you were only 5.

today I saw you as a grow woman, defending a thesis at university and standing by what you believe our society needs. I couldn’t be more proud of the woman you are and I wish nothing more than continuous growth and self-awareness to you. in a family of strong, caring and independent women, you are surely on the front line to make us all proud. I will always cheer for you, for us. I love you, never stop shining
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sunday diary

butterflies in her dreams, taste of home away from home in a fresh morning coffee, smooth and smily eyes, cheerful-heartbeats-in-her-lounge, laughter and intimacy on high bar stools. a departure announcement splits her day in half. bitter sweet, they say. a few tears and the melancholy of warm despair is back, an old haunting friend that gracelessly visits her on departures.

it’s the cost of exploring foreign lands, she recalls. in these moments, her heart brings back memories that are not from specific people or from specific places, but from a feeling of her hair flowing free on a bike ride on a homey air, a familiar smell of threes, the bright colors of different seasons. she misses belonging somewhere in a rooted way.

in the beginning of her travelings, she never knew if she was chasing something or running from something. perhaps both. perhaps trying to find and to lose herself at the same time. not anymore. she knows she was never lost. the melancholy of the departures is the spreading of her roots across oceans, seeding parts of herself in others, blooming by the energy gifted to her by others. belonging grounded wherever her heart lives.