Friendship
Since Zero Years Old
A weekend in Hamar and Stange with a friend I have known since birth — old conversations, new music, a cat with a red string, and the quiet kind of friendship that never needed any work.
Friendship
A weekend in Hamar and Stange with a friend I have known since birth — old conversations, new music, a cat with a red string, and the quiet kind of friendship that never needed any work.
Everyday Life
Some people chase beautiful views. Others simply need a window. An essay about trains, hotels, airplanes, and the strangely comforting act of watching the world pass by.
Travel Letters
Thirty-three hours by coach. Too little sleep, almost no money left, and one final stretch still to go. Somewhere between Brussels and Oslo, I realise that getting home isn't always about arriving. Sometimes it's simply about trusting that you'll get there.
Travel Letters
Sometimes travelling isn't about collecting experiences. Sometimes it's about giving yourself permission to do almost nothing. A free coffee. A second-hand book. A walk through unfamiliar streets. A quiet hostel room. The world can wait until tomorrow.
Travel Letters
Sometimes the hardest part of travelling isn't arriving somewhere new. It's walking through the door and becoming one of the strangers.
Travel
From London's hidden workers' cafés to quiet walks along the Thames, this is a travel letter about slowing down, reconnecting with an old friend, and discovering a city through the moments that rarely make it into guidebooks.
Personal Essays
Some people unpack the moment they arrive. Others leave a backpack in the corner for weeks. An essay about belonging, restlessness, and the quiet question of whether some of us are simply built for the spaces in between.