A period of history

Inspired by old texts, ancient stories, poetry, writing, dreams and history. ✨ Come and follow me on my adventures and feel free to have a look around. Currently doing a series of poems and illustrated stories based on mythology and symbolism. To learn more about it, look at the link Mythology poems and stories.

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20 books in 2025

I'm so satisfied with the previous reading year. Probably because I have read mostly some of my favorite genres, fantasy, history, and horror. This year I want to tackle the following books, that have sat on my TBR for some time now. But also succumb to my mood reading habits of picking up books that feel right for that time of year.

The library of Babel by Jorge Luis Borges

Babel by Rebecca F. Kuang

Legends & Lattes by Baldree Travis

Fabric: The Hidden History of the Material World by Victoria Finlay

The Island of missing trees by Elif Shafak

Ways of being by James Bridle

The Gathering Dark: An Anthology of Folk Horror by various authors

The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follet

Shakespearean: On Life & Language in Times of Disruption by Robert McCrum

Femina by Ramírez Janina

Anything by Ava Reid

The road by Cormac McCarthy

Red rising by Pierce Brown

Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer

Spinning silver by Naomi Novik

Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov

More of Jane Austen

The bog wife, by Kay Chronister

Throne of glass series, by Sarah J. Mass

The tenant of Wildfell Hall, by Anne Bronte

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I have been in a hurry

of a good kind

that swallows you whole

but does not spit you out

it transforms you

makes you grow

to be one of a kind

for yourself, for your soul

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Spring is here. ✨

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Why is autumn so beautiful and so short at the same time?

It breaks my heart, knowing this will all be over in two weeks.

The leaves will fall, and the branches will remain unprotected.

Naked and alone, in the foggy, rainy landscape.

Yet, there is a stillness that comes in November.

Nothing remains, just a quiet notion that we also need a little bit of darkness and solitude, before everything starts to bloom again.

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When the colors turn to yellow and brown, you know, fall has returned to its crown.

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Fall in the mountains.

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A long time I have not been me

work was all that was for see.

The weeds grew in my garden

and all over the house I built.

It is time to tend me, a person,

and not the robot they want me to be.

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Got back from the hills where we stayed at a cottage surrounded by only the forest and fields. It was kind of magical.

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Upward, where the fairies dance in the morning.

And when the moonlight shines, the queen comes out.

Of a realm long forgotten, the kingdom of the old days.

Of magic and the natural ways.

(inspired by the books of Sarah J. Maas)

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The forest in spring is something else. You can almost feel it is a home for fairies, with its white petals and magical bright colors on the ground.

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I walked through the woods the last day,

and saw little flowers that peeked out of the earth for me.

The rays of the sun shown between the branches,

the moss in the field gave fairytale glances.

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Late winter in the countryside

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Just a quick update: I have been sick on and off for the past month, so I haven't been able to create meaningful content for this blog. The struggle has been very real.

I hope to venture off into nature soon and take some photographs for you. I also went to the library and got quite a nice stack of books to read. Will make a short summary of them.

Small thing to be grateful for.

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“If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.”

Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

The way Wuthering Heights has me obsessed is for another story. I have read it in January and can not stop thinking about it. The moody setting, the complex characters, the unlikability. It was all so human. They live in the middle of nowhere in the Yorkshire Moors. In the fog, mud, and they somehow need to make it work. They need each other, but they would rather run away.

I just want to visit the Moors now. That is all that is on my mind.

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Upward, to the snowy mountain peaks, we go.

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They say you go up the gravel road, through the trees that succumbed to the black plague. Long has it been this way, the locals say, generations back, when the first elders arrived in these mountains.

They were cruel and demanded sacrifices, first in the form of herbs and local meat. Then their satisfaction was greater with a different kind of meat.

When the locals didn't comply with their wishes, they unleashed monsters upon them. And the monsters would drag people into the darkness of the mountains.

There are no gods here, only monsters.