•20/09/2015 • Leave a Comment


If there is one thing in life I’m absolutely terrified of, that’s regret. The regret I lost what could have been the best thing in my life or that I didn’t do everything I could have to make it happen.


Things you’ll never know (III)

•29/08/2015 • Leave a Comment

There are so many things I wanted to say to you. But I never got the chance to meet you.

I wanted to tell you I would love to pack you lunch every single day. I would carefully cut your sandwich just the way you like it (in half, but not in triangles) and put it in a silver lunch tin (the one I would have got for your birthday). I wouldn’t pack any dessert because I know you’re not the biggest fan of sweets, but I would sometimes leave a note at the bottom of the tin.

I wouldn’t get upset if at the end of a work day you would come home and throw your clothes on the floor. I would carefully pick them up and put some fresh ones on the bed while you were in the shower.

If ever you had a bad day, I would wait for you with a chilled bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and just listen. Or pour you a glass of wine and let you snooze on the couch while I cooked dinner.

We would sleep in every Sunday, get takeaway coffees and drink them in the park while people (and pigeon) watching, our favourite weekend activity.

We would very rarely go shopping and even when we did, we would spend the entire time brushing shoulders, hiding in the fitting rooms and giggling about things that only made sense to us.

Every Monday after work, we would go straight to our local pub, drink beer and eat crisps instead of a real dinner. We would always sit outside and watch the world go by.

We would walk past abandoned buildings and you would always tell me you saw someone at the window. It would freak me out and you would laugh and love every single second of it.

We would often fight and I would get upset and sad, but you would always manage to say something silly and make me laugh. And that would make all the sadness go away.


•28/08/2015 • Leave a Comment

kind love

No one writes letters anymore

•13/04/2015 • Leave a Comment

I had never seen her so happy. She said hello and hugged me tightly and I could feel her smiling as she was doing it. I knew it wasn’t because of me, but enjoyed seeing her joyful. For the first time ever, the happiness was real.

I remember the look on her face when she carefully took out the folded piece of paper out of her purse. The words were scribbled in soft crayon and she liked to always carry it with her. ‘No one writes letters anymore’, I thought to myself.

And then there were the days when her smile would completely fade away. She still caried with her the folded letters, but never took them out. It was a silent sadness that was at times painful to watch.

But she never complained. She knew some days would be her happiest and most fulfilling and others filled with a very bitter unhappiness. And she chose to live both*. She chose to feel. Because feeling, regardless of its nature, is what made her who she was.

*Most probably hoping time would be on her side and fade away the second type of days. She still does.

He made a map for me

•22/08/2014 • Leave a Comment

I’ve always prided myself in being able to hide my feelings, put a straight face on and get over anything whenever life was tough (and my feelings hurt). I feel a lot but my face has never revealed any of it. Until yesterday, when all the rules I’ve created for myself these past years got broken one by one. I cried. I didn’t pretend to be ok. I admitted to be hurt. I was weak. And the most exposed I’ve ever been in my life. And for whatever reason, being so vulnerable felt…liberating. 

I should be angry. Annoyed. Disappointed. I’m hurt, but I can’t be upset. 

I should stay away, but I’m weak.

He made a map for me and all angry thoughts went away.


•11/12/2013 • Leave a Comment

It’s in her eyes that I saw what I’ve been feeling for years. A feeling that had become my second nature. A feeling that I still hate with a passion.

It’s reaching for the arm of the one sitting next to you after the third sip of wine. And wishing you hadn’t made any move. Not because it wasn’t what you felt like doing. But because your gesture didn’t trigger any reaction.

It’s walking next to each other on the street, casually resting your arm on his shoulder. And putting it back into your pocket two cold minutes later.

It’s buying a present, hiding it at the very back of the drawer and never taking it out again. Because the fear that the engraving won’t be of any significance for anyone other than you.

It’s in her eyes that I saw what I’ve been feeling for years.


•29/11/2013 • Leave a Comment

At the end of the day there are too many words we take to bed with us.

Tell her she looks nice in that dress she wears just for meeting you. Tell him you like the hugs he overwhelms you with at the end of the day. And that it would be nice to feel his arms around more often. Tell her you don’t like when she lets go of your hand in the middle of the street. Or when she only kisses you on the cheeks when you meet. Tell him it annoys you the way he always walks too fast or speaks too loudly.

Days are short. And I bet it would be nice for some people to know they sometimes leave a trace behind them.