whistling through half-open windows

Coloured lights reflected in dark, silvery waves. Fiery leaves, grey skies. Coldly threatening winds whistling through half-open windows on velvety evenings.

An air of secrets, of adventures in the dark, of distant bonfires and signs in the sky.

Burrowing into a mound of blankets after days filled with challenges, emails, languages, disinfectant, people to reconnect with, laptop screens and volleyball courts, heavy demands and not enough energy, fun and fashion inspiration, favourite novels and novel ideas.

Chamomile tea, filling page after page with writing. My mind is alive but the world seems too distant and love is still calling from a darkening horizon.

asbestos or xylene, that's the question

"Is TH2P R SL sufficient respiratory protective equiment if the dust saturation is 90 milligram per cubic meter on average over an eight hour workday?"

This question was asked of me today. I'm continuing my studies in personal protective equipment and pondering safety issues in industrial environments. I have hardly even seen the inside of a factory or had to breathe more dust than can be found behind my sofa. I have certainly never used more advanced respiratory protective equipment than a disposable face mask. I am to become an expert on these things. In a language with very long words.

I find myself muttering to myself in my third language about particulate respirators, compressed air from remote sources, assigned protection factors. Whether asbestos or xylene is of higher priority in a risk analysis. Whether oxygen deficiency or explosive environments are preferable when you're trying to stay alive. Whether my boss will kill me if I fail the exam when she paid so much for this course.

the whitefish at world's end

On the Island, not much has changed. I've used the long drive to clear my head of summer confusion and sigh as I cross the tall bridge over an endless sea. 

Sunlight sparkles in the Baltic waves. I take detours into some of the small villages. Forests and fields, winding roads, a craft shop where I buy homemade bisquits. I'm in no hurry. It's the last day of my annual leave and still summer in my mind. I came alone because I needed to be alone.

At the farthest tip of the Island lies a small harbour, looking out towards open sea and the world heritage archipelago. The little restaurant at the end of the universe is getting ready to close for the season but still serves an delicious meal of whitefish and spicy potatoes. Dark coffee and a pink cupcake for dessert. 

The wind from the sea is chilly but I sit in the sun on the open patio to watch boats come and go, carefully navigating between thousands of islets and reefs. I wrap up in a cardigan and warm my cold fingers on the coffee mug. Before the long winter I have to soak up every sunray, every scent of saltwater and vibrant earth.

A hike along one of the trails takes me past birch forests, inlets and fishing spots, old cottages and ancient rock formations. Even some highland cattle grazing on what used to be seabed.

The Island wraps me in its mystical air.

welcome, icy clarity

Ah, to finally be past the emotional funfair that is August - with its wild carnival laughter, colours, a bewildered heart - and safely land in the ordered world of September!

The memories of hot sand, summer nailpolish, whirling ideas and cool grass are fading. I note that I did some of the things I had planned for this summer. There were mojitos, friends, drives through lush fields, the saving of a seagull chick, excited smiles on my mother's face, walks among fragrant pine trees, boat trips beyond the horizon, exploration of things unknown, Netflixing alone in the cabin between the sea and the forest, love and languages.

I still welcome the chilly nights of now, the starry skies dripping ice. The smell of the gym I haven't set foot in for months, the pilates balls, the dancing shoes, the volleyball men with their muscles and the exhilaration of sweating off all that sadness. The delicious lunches in the cafeteria at work, the business meetings around laptops, wry smiles, plans. The new knowledge that is placed before me, the Excel charts and the music course and all the books I haven't read. Beautiful clothes. The feeling of setting off.

I loved the summer but I was lost and confused. I mourn the loss of a hot sun and birdsong, of being so close to nature that I can hear it breathe.

 I revel in making schedules with early morning work and evening classes, and the peace that comes with sticking to them.

Welcome, icy clarity of autumn.

on a dark coast

A tiny cabin lit with coloured lamps and a wood fire in the stove, hidden in the forest and all alone on a dark coast. 

In the middle of the night, I hear the absolute silence of the starry skies dripping ice on me. Other nights, rain or restless seas sing me to sleep. 

I could disappear here.