Wednesday, 22 June 2011
into the blue
Farewell, dear friends! I'm leaving tomorrow to go sailing for a week and a half. Wish me luck and great winds, okay?
(And oh goodness have I missed sailing. Physically longed for it. This time around it's a smaller ship and a smaller sea, but a ship's a ship and a sea's a sea so who am I to complain?)
Tuesday, 21 June 2011
windy days
"Now is the season to know that everything you do is sacred."
Hafiz
Photos by the talented Ezgi Polat.
Sunday, 19 June 2011
hands learn more than minds do
Sarah Kay performing her poem Hands. "Some people read palms to tell your future, but I read hands to tell your past."
tags:
get happy,
pictures of hands,
poetry
Thursday, 16 June 2011
how i want to live



A country house in Italy. With stray cats and big windows with shutters and balconies and tiled floors.(Oh, I've never told you about all those trips to Italy as a little girl. Especially Venice, far too many times. I don't think I'll ever be able to shake off the gold dust.)
Today I'm selling my ukulele in order to buy a new and better one. Last night was a whirl of dreams in which I pressed the familiar (cheap, always out-of-tune) strings and I woke up at four in the morning only to give my trusty old uke one last play, then collapsed back into bed and slept without dreaming. Sentimentality, the things it makes me do.
Monday, 13 June 2011
libraries and thunder
After weeks of constant sunshine, the rain is here. I woke up to the force of it last night, getting up to close my windows and fetch my blanket.
It's easier to breathe now, to ease into the grey-stained air and feel the way I do.
Right, I'm off to the library, to read and write and press my fingertips against the cold windowpanes. What's a better place to spend a thunderstorm than between shelves?
Painting by Christine Lafuente.
tags:
art
Sunday, 12 June 2011
small cities
Yesterday was parks and a sunset by the sea. We sat on a pier, dipping our mojitos into the spring-cold sea to cool them. (Are you sensing a drink trend for this summer? Because I know I am.)
We ate insane amounts of ice cream, joined a group of music students who cruelly hijacked our ukuleles, set off to find a bar but couldn't find anything to fit a student budget. So we sat at a tram stop watching the last trams of the night rush by on their way to bed, empty of passengers, lights turned off.
Then walked all the way from Kallio to the railway station, which admittedly is not much of a distance, except when you're tired and hungry and the city is almost asleep. Helsinki is so blissfully small sometimes, when there are distances to be covered by foot and familiar streets to get lost in.
I arrived home at sunrise, the lilacs next to our gate have never been quite as beautiful. A good night, one of the best in a very long time. I can't begin to understand this warmth, bare legs all through the night, donning a light cardigan sometime around two in the morning.
(Can you imagine how hot my room gets, with our black tiled roof and sunlight pouring in all day, every day? I sleep with my windows open and sometimes I wake up in between dreams to listen to the birds and trains.)
We ate insane amounts of ice cream, joined a group of music students who cruelly hijacked our ukuleles, set off to find a bar but couldn't find anything to fit a student budget. So we sat at a tram stop watching the last trams of the night rush by on their way to bed, empty of passengers, lights turned off.
Then walked all the way from Kallio to the railway station, which admittedly is not much of a distance, except when you're tired and hungry and the city is almost asleep. Helsinki is so blissfully small sometimes, when there are distances to be covered by foot and familiar streets to get lost in.
I arrived home at sunrise, the lilacs next to our gate have never been quite as beautiful. A good night, one of the best in a very long time. I can't begin to understand this warmth, bare legs all through the night, donning a light cardigan sometime around two in the morning.
(Can you imagine how hot my room gets, with our black tiled roof and sunlight pouring in all day, every day? I sleep with my windows open and sometimes I wake up in between dreams to listen to the birds and trains.)
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