Thursday, 19 July 2012


Tonight the fireflies
light their brief
in all the trees
of summer—
color of moonflakes,
color of fluorescent
where the ocean drags
its torn hem
over the dark

Linda Pastan

Wednesday, 18 July 2012

thoughts on the wind

(I wouldn't mind it right now if someone whisked me off my feet and took me someplace by an ocean.) 

Tuesday, 17 July 2012

Summer summer — summer! 
The soundless footsteps on the grass! 

John Galsworthy: Indian Summer of a Forsyte 

Sunday, 15 July 2012

do not look for me

Maybe one day I'll stop torturing myself with pictures of the sea, but that day is not today. 

(The white curtains in my room look like sails sometimes when they billow in the breeze and
I find myself coiling things like the cord of the hoover just to do something familiar with my hands.)

Friday, 13 July 2012

Those who fear the border
do not know they are walking on the sea. 

Luis Benitez, from The Pearl Fisherman 

Thursday, 12 July 2012

i leave my rage to the sea and the sun

Liz Clements's illustrations are spectacular. 

This is the kind of girl I'd like to be, if I were brave enough. 
Pictures on my skin and wings in my hair. 

Wednesday, 11 July 2012

don't ask me why, i'll tell you no lies

Yes, I know. Months of near-silence and no explanations.

There are no proper explanations, I guess. But then what is there? Unfinished posts festering in my drafts. Lots of late nights working. (I have a summer job at a cinema.) Lots of nights spent watching films in the comforting darkness. (Summer job at a cinema, bring it.) Friends and music festivals and all that.

Getting into university. (I'll be studying English at the University of Helsinki come autumn. Not my original plan, but I'll take what I can get. I'm actually very very pleased, and relieved.)

The truth is, I've been feeling blue for quite a while now. Like I've misplaced my happiness and peace of mind and can't for the life of me remember where I put them. Like I set them down for a moment and turned my back and suddenly they were gone, and I keep telling myself to look where I last saw them but they simply aren't there.

In part I think it's anxiety over my future, but mostly I think it has to do with this being the first summer in four years that I don't get to go sailing. It's painful, almost. A cut in my finger, constantly there, constantly aching. And I can't help but poke at it.

I'll be okay. I know I will. Things pile up and suddenly you look around and realise you're not where you thought you'd be. But it turns out to be okay, I think? Tonight I went to see Le Skylab, the new Julie Delpy film, and leaving the cinema in the evening sunlight with my shoes untied felt like a rebirth. Or maybe not a rebirth, a re-reckoning.