There are still things I want to tell you. Small things, mostly. A plant I finally learned the name of. Something stupid one of my cats did. A sentence I heard on the street that would have made you laugh. A tree somewhere in Berlin carrying fruit, the kind we would have stopped to inspect as if discovering it ourselves. Sometimes something happens and my first thought is still: I have to tell you this. And for one tiny second, you still exist exactly where you used to. Then I remember. There is nowhere to send it anymore.

this seems kinda ridiculous, convince me not to delete

île de ré

I think that’s one of the strangest things about losing someone who is still alive. Nothing disappears all at once. The person leaves first. The habits take longer. The conversations you continue inside your head take even longer. And the future might be the last thing to leave. I don’t only miss you. I miss things that never even happened. Trips we talked about but never took. Summers we never reached. Ordinary Sundays. Getting older. Going to the swimming pool, just the two of us Spending one New Year’s Eve together.

Take ownership of your life. You must put yourself first— always keeping your family, friends, and the community in mind- so that everyone benefits from the best version of you. 🪐

The happy-sad u feel taking a 8AM taxi home from the afters.

Just completed my spontaneous 72 hours no food fasting (only water) 🍽️❌ My longest autophagy experiment so far. Day 1 was the most unfamiliar. A bit hangry here and there. Day 2 my head got really clear and I could work well. The obvious part I didn't see coming: I train a lot, so there's always this calculation running about getting enough protein in. For three days it was just gone. That felt freeing. Whats your experiece with longer fast? What stuck with you afterwards and did you archive any specific goals?

Another season came and went. I came out crying, dressed for the occasion, still vain enough to wonder what the other guy looked like. There are hardly any photographs. Apparently I was here. The sky is blue again. The trees are still bare. The calendar insists there is winter left. Let it. I have reached the end of mine. There are things I lost I sometimes want back. Not today. There is a city I keep asking to become home. I’m not sure how much longer I will stay. There was a version of me who spent too much of the season in bed. He got me here. I don't resent him. Not today.