notes on living

I am writing this for the times it feels like the only possible collective future is one where things inevitably get a lot worse.

a row of people (homo sapiens) cycle back home from work this friday eve a blackbird (turdus merula) sprints across the grass, urgently a thirsty pothos (epipremnum aureum) by the window asks to be watered M.

Listen, I am just here to narrate what I am seeing.

Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss.

Hey, you.

Content warning: Discussion of miscarriage and pregnancy loss.

One week ago I found out, at around 9 weeks of gestation, that my pregnancy was no longer viable.

Ewa was a good 40, maybe more, years older than i, and for the last year or so i was lucky to call her my friend. she was the first neighbour i really befriended - or rather, who befriended me, in my decade of living in this closed-off country. her presen…

I have never been particularly good at being calm in the face of uncertainty, unlike F. who tends to take the "if you can't change the outcome, there is no point in worrying" approach.

As a child, I was always being told to mind my own business.