Once, she consisted of many parts.
They granted her all shapes and forms to exist in this world.
Some parts were a daughter,
to be loved and protected and sometimes laughed with.
Some parts were a sister,
to be sometimes admired and often envied, and always cared for.
Some parts were a friend,
to enjoy to be heard and given words to.
Other parts were a wife,
to be there in the end and fold the shirts and warm the sheets.
The hidden parts were lovers,
to hide in an alley and be absorbed by flames.
… and when Dystopia scattered these parts, a scarred skin only covers an empty frame.
Still searching for new shapes and forms.
A witch with no regrets
This night feels cozy.Midnight has passed.No sleep, but another cup of tea in vanilla scented candlelight.“Are you saying you have no regrets?”, my witch giggles. When I was younger, I was often warned that I would regret the things that I did. I remember being 10 years old and finally telling my family that I…
Heavy rain and zombie fire – A small town of resilience part 2
This is a hopeful post, although it might not look like it at first. Recently, the region I am living in is experiencing a historical wildfire, and it was getting terrifyingly close to the city that gave me a lot of inspiration to write my witching novel. The town is called Monschau, and who is…
What the stars can do to us
“Are you really lucky enough to miss out on a few shooting stars?”, my witch asks as I try to fall asleep. Well, who of us ever is? We had seen 6 very bright shooting stars, but I was getting cold and tired. Can I afford to sleep during the peak of the perseids? I…
Mistress witch writes 