Witches know their recipes, right?
“Then, why am I so bad at summoning my perfect week?”, I ask my witch on the last train home.
Home.
Coming home means fairy lights and tastes like cinnamon. No home without a cat meowing!
Waiting for me was waiting pots to clean and a kitchen to renovate.
“Maybe, it’s just that old cooking books are mean”, I ramble on.
“Because they dont give you all the instructions in pictures like those videos you watch on lonely train rides on your phone?”, my witch respons insulted.
Have you ever read old recipes? They really assume a lot of knowledge on the readers site and basecally throw ingredients at you.
So, the ingredients for the perfect week?
In my case, I already know those and even have a clear idea of where to find them.
I need to write at least one poem, one historical post and a witching tale of some sort.
Next thing, I need to spend at least one evening with my photographs and create something new with them.
Another evening needs to be used for music and recordings.
Finally, one chapter of the witching novel should be drafted and one for another project I am writing unrelated to this.
That sounds not too impossible, right? But so very often my mind is a mess and my brain eats itself. It sounds as easy as sleeping 7 hours a night or eating breakfast to not get a migraine. Things, I am also not very good at. As a photo for this post, I chose my chaotic desk, since it represents how my thoughts sometimes don’t form themselve.They like to run from me. I have not really cleaned my desk in such a long time, ever since I had a stressful and negative exam experience sitting there in a pandemic lockdown and blacking out. One step to get better would actually be cleaning in out again. I keep that in mind until I am able to do it.
Just as I keep the ingredient of my perfect week in mind, to catch the moments when the thoughts just come and form themselves and leak out onto the paper.
Would be boring without a little struggle, right? What are your current writing struggles?
Why I am not a nice girl
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Intimate tale
I yearn for those moments,When I existedsolelyin your eyes.When I wasnothingBut an image causingCuriosity.I lived in those momentsWhen you knewNothingAbout the scarsBetween myThighs.Moments that werePure and softAnd kept mySecretWithout anyFalsity.In those momentsI felt loveFor all the thingsYou mustn’tKnow.All the thingsWent looseWithin myHeadAnd found their wayOnto myTongue.I still amThese momentsWhen I hadYouAnd you deniedThe thingsI wanted…
The tale of mental health in a burning world
“Wanna feel better?”, my witch asks me as she presents tonight’s options. Do we want to get drunk and risk a headache? Do we want to try out yoga again although we’ve never managed to take it seriously? Do we want to escape the last traces of reality by watching a sitcom and ignoring the…
Mistress witch writes 