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“In this moment, midnight does not exist. There is no “12” on the clock. No need to rush through this dream. No need to race away. There are only wildflowers, and stars, and memories laid by kisses and flecks of gold.

I run down the stairs and let my feet carry my fantasies away anyway.”

“She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something.”

-Rainbow Rowell

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(from a castle in France)

You can now travel through two countries with me via my poetry! The second installment of “The Traveler’s Journals” is available now, online and wherever books are sold. ✈️🇳🇴🪻

Vol I. Italy
Vol II. Norway