the ice cannot fix this

I went down to the bay, with its ice like a mirror all the way to the horizon, and sat on a sun-warmed rock. The ice was singing.

It has not been a good winter. It has not been a winter at all, in some respects. Just a dark wetness, bringing dark thoughts.

It went well for a while. I savoured each month carefully, deliberately. The swirling grey mists of November, the spicy candles of December. Then came the discordant threats of January, the midwinter demons that play tricks on body and mind. I have been so busy fighting them that I hardly even noticed this bland February.

The last two months, and probably for a few more to come, I wake early in the mornings to the sound of drilling in the walls around me. Instead of working from home, I'm forced to take my laptop to noisy cafés, chilly libraries and my mother's quiet flat. It has its charms - sipping smoothies or my mother's strong coffee while I work - but hunching on uncomfortable chairs over a small laptop twists my body into seizures and aches.

I didn't sign up for any evening classes or courses last autumn, as I usually do. I was tired and needed my evenings for myself. I couldn't even find any fun dance classes at the gym, only boring workouts alone.

I may be more rested now. Or more stressed out, from the drilling. My mind wanders only around the same, small circles - my flat, the grey streets where nothing ever happens. My creativity has dried up. Love is still not a reality. Only my friends and family keep me afloat on this dull ocean.

I used to be the traveller, the explorer, the curious one. How did I become this dazed and lonely shadow?

The ice sang its song to me today, with cracks and soft hoots.

travel report

I went to Helsinki.

I saw fire and some impressive art, studied science and rats for a day at the Heureka Museum and heard the blackbird sing in the middle of winter, in the middle of the city. I found English books and a lovely quilt. I walked too much and had a comfort pizza.

Now I feel socially acceptable again. I have been to the big city. I have actually seen other people.

tofu and tension

This is a winter of huddling beneath a Helsinki quilt. Watching Netflix and the rain that should have been snow. Frying tofu and rolling wraps. Fleeing my noisy apartment building to work in cafés and libraries. Being so tense it hurts, jumping at loud noises.

A winter of spinning my 80's globe - it has countries like Zaïre, Czechoslovakia and the USSR - and calling my mother because I miss her even though I saw her yesterday.

dust and a smell of copper

The sun is so far away, there is dust and a smell of copper, builders are ringing my doorbell at 7 AM, my brain zaps me at night, I still haven't found true love, every little thing scares me, and I sit alone in my house on a Saturday night.

But God will command his angels regarding me, I will not fear the terror of night nor the plague that destroys at midday, and I will dwell in the shelter of the Most High.