I'm a Memory Lane kinda girl and I love nothing more than to browse through old journals. I recently found this gem of a scribbling I wrote exactly three years ago. In the virgin times before moving to New Zealand and covid and the whole shabang. I had just travelled through Mexico and was spending a little while in Brussels selling all my stuff before taking a plane to the other side of the world. As if she knew how much I needed time to just write, to let all Mexican and Be

How did we survive the days after summer camp when we were little? Did we indulge in milk and cookies and watch cartoons until we fell into a dreamless sleep? Only to be woken up in the middle of the night bathing in sweat thinking the best time in our lives has passed and nothing will ever live up to it? Because that’s how I’ve been feeling ever since my beautiful crew of Brussels friends left Valencia. A week like a dream of one moment flowing into another, easy like Sunday

Oh how the night changes life as we know it people are less aware shame vanishes, embarrassment is nonexistent dancing is the new walking, flirting the new talking feet hurt but they are supposed to legs are tired, which is completely normal desires change, politeness turns into lust eyes burn fire fire they scream resting is for the weak you think and drink and dance a little more once I'm out, I'm out an entire lifetime happens in one night I can fall in love, be high, feel

Ah, Valencia! Where a sense of perpetual vacation is floating in the air. Where cockroaches are fat, juicy and deeply disappointed in humankind. Mosquitos buzz in between layers of evening covering the city. Streets smell damp as if after rain but it’s only drops of sweat feeding the hot black tar. My neighbours are moving in they forget to wear clothes. The apartment was empty for so long and now there are people. Shiny skin dusty shorts always drilling or looking at somethi