To live quiet, ordinary life, far from the noise of the world. To laugh. To cherish moments. To love. That is an art.

To be truly seen, truly felt, for the woman I am. Nothing less than that.

I love the woman I am becoming.

The intimacy of the hands, knowing every curve of me, like they touched me a thousand times before.

To be your last poem, last moan, last breath. To be all that.

Tell me stories of kindness and goodness, stories of hope as they are light we need so much in these dark times. Tell me again stories how we connect, how we shine, how we laugh. Tell me of magic. Tell me of love.

A year has passed. I miss you. I love you.

You will forever be my moonage daydream. So grateful I lived in times of Bowie, saw him twice alive, married to 'Life on Mars' and changed my last name. His light, his creativity will never fade. Forever in my heart #BowieForever

Being soft in this dark world is the bravest thing.

There is always magic somewhere. There is always light.

Promise me that you will kiss me harder as nostalgia is blooming in my chest instead of flowers. Promise me that you will take me to the mountains and kiss me like we are the only two people left in this world. Promise me that you will undress me slower and kiss me longer.

Let’s hold each other’s hearts with love. Let’s hold this moment with hope. Happy New Year

May we be able to create a world where all people are kind to each other.

I want to remember this year, these hard times. I want to remember how much courage and resilience was needed to get up every morning and go on with life, despite the unbearable grief. I want to remember how my husband kissed me the last time. I want to remember love.

I remember things that will happen you will pin me to the wall spread my universe kiss me deeply that my mind will go blurry Let yourself feel my fire with your fingers your tongue When desires wash over us taking us like a whirlwind only then we will both see the light

I am just a woman lost in her dreams, rising from darkness, showing her light.

Our last walk happened on Christmas Eve last year. Hand in hand, towards the light. May you find peace, tenderness and light. Happy Christmas

How many times you laid awake, listening to the silence of the night, holding your own hand not to drown in sadness and loneliness. Trying to find the way to simply breathe.

Blossoming in the midst of the winter.

In the world full of darkness my biggest fear is to lose my passion, to stop feeling deeply, intensely about everything, and not to see beauty all around me.

This year, more than ever, I practiced the art of being grateful.

How many times in this life we laid awake waiting for the dawn praying for it to come sooner or never to come at all?

We should write letters more. I miss that. I would say: My love, this was the hardest year in my life. And yet, I never want it to end, as it was the last year we talked, laughed, cried, and loved.

Less storms. More love.

I fall in love with people who never give up on dreams.

To do better. To help more. To love harder.

I will never forget how love felt with you.

Only love can cure the loneliness of this world.

To be seen. To love. To be loved.

My peace, my quiet mind, my calm, is always in love.

Last December I didn’t write, play, breathe. My husband was dying. Every day he would lose a bit more of weight, the shadows around his eyes were deeper. Every day, our daughters and me, sat with him, laughed, talked about life, music and art. Love was everywhere.

We should write letters more. I miss that. I would say: My love, it is the last Sunday of November. The world keeps spinning, but it is very quiet here where I am now and I can hear my heart clearly. I miss the peace I felt with you, sound of your voice, your strength. I miss us

Find me again among the trees, in the whisper of the wind and quiet of the sea.

Moment is enough to change the course of your life. Don’t miss it.

In the forest among the tall cedars, at the horizon where the sea kisses the stormy sky, laying on the grass watching the stars, the colours of sunset, in the silence filled with love between our two hearts. This is where my home is.

Life will never be the same. It will be something different. And just like grief that comes in waves, joy will come too.

I love messy and raw. I love mistakes, typos and bad grammar. I love people who speak one language and dream in the other. I love passion and imperfection. I love our humanity.

Music sleeps in the silence of my heart, in the longing of my dreams, in the world where words are magic and you love me still.

It takes courage to be gentle.

I am aging differently from my friends. It is a lonely road. I am more open, more tender. While everyone around me is focused on their own comfort and themselves, I am looking outside, paying attention to the world. I see and feel everything. My life is evolving. I am growing.

Slow Sundays

I just want to be, for a moment, lost in time with you.

Never underestimate the strength of art, poetry and music, even in the darkest times.

This past year I truly learned how to be alone. To go to the movies, to laugh at things by myself. To travel alone, visit art galleries. I learned to have meal at the restaurant and toast my reflection in the window. I learned to love my own company, to love myself.

Sadness is a poem I live in silence.

Write me into symphony of the wind. Paint me into the hues of the stormy sky. Love me like a raging sea.

Change is inevitable if we want to survive.

Every day I celebrate kindness, celebrate compassion, celebrate tenderness.

The world needs people like us, people who get lost in the music, people who write poetry in the early morning hours, people who never give up on dreams, people who know that love is the answer.

One day all the languages will be forgotten, but music will stay. Song of the bird. Whisper of the wind.