Sunday, 26 February 2017


I wake up in a quiet house.
The snowfall outside turns the world to mute,
obscures the view into blurred, soft contours.
I slip into this Sunday
as if into a cotton kimono. 
This milky white light, soothing silence.
The end of a winter holiday week winter flu
 felt as velvet on the skin
& crystal-clear, brand new thoughts
that seemingly appeared from nowhere.
Creative ideas that cannot be squeezed into daylight by force
& get silenced by the noise and chaos of the usual busyness.
It's chains like these that continuously make me marvel
~ just think how much bubbles deep within us,
 waiting to flow free,
if you truly pause for a moment,
put out your gentle feelers. 
Sometimes there's nothing that speaks 
as loud as silence.

Herään hiljaisessa talossa.
Lumisade vaimentaa äänet entisestään, 
sumentaa näkymät.
Tähän sunnuntaihin sujahdan
kuin puuvillakimonoon. 
Maidonvalkea valo, hiljaisuus.
Talvilomaviikon ja flunssan jälkeinen raukeus
tuntuu samettina iholla
ja kirkastuneina, kuin tyhjästä ilmaantuneina uusina ajatuksina.
Luovina ideoina, joita ei voi väkisin pusertaa esiin
ja jotka kiireessä jäävät kaiken melun peittoon.
Nämä tällaiset ketjut jaksavat ihmetyttää
~ mitä kaikkea meidän sisällä pulppuaakaan,
valmiina murtamaan kaikki padot,
jos vain oikeasti pysähtyy,
hellästi tunnustelee. 
Joskus mikään ei puhu yhtä lujaa
kuin hiljaisuus. 


Friday, 24 February 2017


it was a grey november day
when i saw an offer i couldn't refuse
& bagged a room in a plush hotel in our town
for a later date
~ for last weekend to be exact,
to celebrate my husband's birthday,
life together,

i'd never done this before,
stayed in a hotel in my own town
just for the fun of it,
the indulgence of it. 

a weekend of canapés & bubbly drinks,
swirling velvet stairs
leading to our room 
on the 8th floor.

a weekend of feeling a little frivolous,
and anonymous,
as when visiting a foreign city.
even the streets gleamed in a new light
when we traipsed over to the restaurant
where we had reservations 
two blocks away. 

a weekend of feeling
we could be anyone,
from anywhere,
start over wherever or however we wanted
 ~ that same feeling that has hit me on aeroplanes
ever since i was young kid. 

a weekend of feeling glad for our life 
as we know it right now,
despite the world slipping into the guise of an oyster. 


Sunday, 12 February 2017


City of perfume steeped on a hill.
A scent-filled town that's conjured up 
magical connotations in my head
& created a longing 
to see it for myself one day.
Last summer I got lucky. 

in the heart of the medieval town
merges the past & present
in the art of perfume-making.
The old town mansion
with its stunning rooms
& modern, light-filled glass extensions
filled with plants like vetiver, patchouli and jasmine
reveal the secrets behind all things olfactory
from raw materials and ancient methods of distilling flowers & plants 
to 80s headspace and bottle design. 

There were metal rods to pull out from a wall,
each lined with a different variation 
of Dior's favourite flower muguet, aka lily of the valley,
& capsules to fill the nose with everything 
from whiskey to rose, mimosa, vanilla, tuberose...

Next door, 
Fragonard with its smaller museum, 
elegant shop 
& glimpse into perfume-making du jour. 

Many months have passed since our trip to Grasse,
but the sillage on my skin still lingers... 


Monday, 6 February 2017


the last two weeks of the 52 week photography challenge rolled into one –

week 5, technical, "ten shots of the same subject
choosing one" (above),

my darling daughter
getting cosy with a cup of cocoa,

& week 6, artistic,
"candy without using candy",

dark chocolate, cups of coffee by day or rooibos at night
& a lovely new magazine
are my favourite kind of candy...

this week, two books landed on my desk
for translation,
one on fashion, the other one on interiors.
and i'm shooting a series of products
while a chef cooks up treats
in a beautiful old place in town. 
so glad about my freelance life,
about making the transition, 
& how the right types of gigs
and new but quickly solidifying contacts
have been literally just appearing
one after the next. 
i also have a new lovely workspace
in another part of town,
which i'm eager to show you very soon.
clouds looming, too,
shoulder trouble,
which has caused some concern
& put certain limits 
on how much i can do in one stretch.
it's made me increasingly conscious
of nurturing this temple
with kind food
& gentle movement. 
i think patience is another issue
i need to exercise... 
and the art of not fearing
in the shadows, 
because light always shines through. 

ah, dear reader,
it makes me so glad you stop by.
and i know this space
needs a little je ne sais quoi,
some more coherently written posts perhaps,
but right now my head seems to be mostly spinning
& i'm feeling a little dizzy :) 
i'm looking forward to reaching the clearing 
behind the trees 
and meeting up with you there,
and until then,
i'll keep the rambles coming :) 


Saturday, 4 February 2017


Stunning, timeless details in the home 
of Oslo-based Swedish artist

Rest of the article here. 

Tuesday, 24 January 2017


"mirrors are just glass,
& you are more than that."

[ week 4 of the 52 week photography challenge ~
tell a story using a mirror. ]


Saturday, 21 January 2017


This weekend,
I carefully unwrapped
my Christmas present candle,
& the fragrance of Astier de Villatte's
Paradis Latin
now fills the room:

"Under the historic dome of the Paradis Latin, 
overlooking the room meticulously prepared for the dinner-show, 
the artists’ dressing rooms are abuzz. 
The slow metamorphosis of frivolous Marquises, 
of rustling cancan dancers, 
of bird-men, 
of rhinestone-winged archangels in a whirlwind of fragrances 
of naked skin, 
of powder, 
of lipstick, 
of glittering make-up. 
A delicious perfume invades the cabaret." 

Their descriptions are so delicious
that the imagination immediately
begins its role play 
~ I see white powder on shoulders,
blush tulle against bare skin,
feather ornaments reflected in mirrors,
sequins glittering & getting trampled under gold shoes
 against a creaky, worn herringbone floor,
clouds of perfume in the air...

And the lingering scent touches on memories 
~ milky white talcum powder 
against my baby son's velvet skin,
my grandmother getting out her powder puff 
& coral lipstick
from the sideboard drawer,
a sun beam trapped in the corner
of the bevelled mirror on the wall,
as she gets ready to go out.  


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