29.03.26 | Let There Be Light

Enjoying the last moments of these shorter days to savor my candles; soon it won't get dark until after nine. Don't you love seasons? I do.

12.03.26 | First Blossoms

Walking around Notting Hill to see the magnolias and early blossoms but sadly the light wasn’t great and my husband decided to spent three hours sitting in a mid restaurant (we had only stopped for a snack) and by the time we left it was already getting dark.

11.03.26 | 2000s Nostalgia

Remembering when blog posts used to be about showing stuff you loved and bought yourself, not stuff you didn’t care about but were paid to promote. Blogging used to be about connection and creating community; now it’s just another job and the community people nurtured and gathered around them for a whole decade or more turned into a database of paying customers. Kinda takes the shine out of it.

Most of my favorite blogs from the 00s/10s are now deceased or became paid Substacks. I might enjoy someone’s content, but I’m too old school (and maybe poor) to pay to read their diary - or worse, to see them flogging brands; it’s like paying to watch adverts. Sites that used to proudly display the “ad free blog” sign you can still see on my sidebar are now behind paywalls.

All this came to be with the advent of social networks. Suddenly everyone with an audience realized they could make a living out of it and get free stuff, and how can you blame them for that? I’m not going to. This is just a lonely lament for something beautiful that’s been lost.

I am not much of a blogger anymore, but I keep this place alive for the pleasure of memory keeping and as a small act of resistence against social media algorythms and consumerism. People have bills to pay, yes, but I wish there would still be a few ones with a day job for that purpose, blogging occasionally and unpretentiously just to be part of an unfiltered global conversation between like minded people, unpolluted by corporations and inspired by the joy of sharing.

This world is now gone, or is nothing but a few pages with broken links rescued by the Wayback machine, like exhibits slowly fading behind glass in a museum no one visits anymore.

07.03.26 | Home is where the stuff is