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There’s a particular kind of embarrassment that comes with living somewhere beautiful and taking it entirely for granted. I’ve walked past the Semois river more times than I can count without really stopping. I’ve driven through Ny in summer — past all those overflowing flower boxes, geraniums tumbling out of every window — and thought…
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I’ve noticed something about myself in moments where there’s less structure — especially on days off when I start feeling unproductive without really knowing why. Not when life is busy — those days tend to carry themselves. But in the spaces in between, when nothing is urgent and nothing is waiting, something else begins to…
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It’s a strange feeling to wake up with nothing planned. No appointments.No expectations.No reason to hurry. A day without plans sounds simple, almost ideal — and yet it doesn’t always feel that way. At first, it can feel almost uncomfortable. You reach for your phone out of habit. Check the time, even though it doesn’t…
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It’s not just that people are angry.It’s that many of us are carrying more than we can process. You see it in traffic.In how quickly someone reacts.In the general sense that things tip over faster than they used to. Not everywhere.Not all the time. But often enough that it feels familiar. A Kind of Tension…
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City trips often begin with good intentions. The thought of a few days away.A change of scenery. The pleasure of walking streets that aren’t your own. And yet, somewhere between booking the train, packing the car, and arriving at the hotel, the trip can quietly turn into a plan — a list of places, neighbourhoods,…
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Slow living is often pictured in wide kitchens and country houses. Wooden tables. Linen curtains. Gardens stretching beyond the window. But many people live in apartments. Small ones. Above traffic, below neighbours, with limited storage and walls close enough that sound travels easily. And somewhere in the back of their mind lives a quiet, persistent…
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There is something humbling about being confronted with who you once were. When she told me that I had hurt her twenty-five years ago, I didn’t argue. I didn’t explain it away. I didn’t soften it with context. I remembered enough of that season of my life to know she was right. I had not…
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One morning I stepped outside and realised I wasn’t bracing. All winter, stepping out the door has meant tightening — shoulders up, breath shorter, hands searching for pockets. But that morning, the air met my face differently. The sun had warmth in it. Not dramatic warmth. Just enough to soften the edges. Later, walking through…
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We talk a lot about rest. About protecting our energy.About slowing down.About preventing burnout. But we talk far less about enjoyment. And when we do, it often comes with conditions. It’s fine to enjoy something —as long as it’s healthy.Or productive.Or educational.Or somehow useful. Enjoyment, it seems, is allowed —but rarely as a goal in…
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There is a particular kind of tension that arrives before conflict fully reveals itself. It doesn’t begin with raised voices or sharp words. It begins much earlier, in the body. My jaw tightens. My breathing becomes shallow. My thoughts sharpen into something almost metallic. Sometimes it is triggered by something small — a tone, a…
