It’s the end of the year, it’s the end of a lot of things – a sentence that has started my annual recap for over two decades now.

And while it’s always been easy for me to look back and identify the things I want to leave in the past, I seem to find it hard to see all the things I’d like to take with me into the next year.

Maybe that's the work, though. The quiet practice of learning to hold onto joy with the same grip I use for worry.

This year, I finally made the flat I moved into last year feel like home. Tall bookshelves that required a ladder to assemble, too many pillows (a problem I refuse to acknowledge), and light that falls differently through the windows depending on the season. It gave me a neighbourhood to explore – the kind where you befriend the local shopkeepers, start to recognise the dogs long before their owners, and where Rufus has accumulated more friends than I have mugs (another problem that won’t be acknowledged).

I turned strangers and acquaintances into real friends who show up for you at odd hours, who'll listen to your spiralling at 2 a.m. and trust you with their own unraveling in return.

But here's what I'm trying to leave behind, like old furniture that doesn't fit the new space: the grudges I've been maintaining like dying houseplants. The overthinking that turns every decision into a Choose Your Own Adventure book where all the endings are catastrophic. The instinct to map out worst-case scenarios as if preparing for disaster is the same as preventing it.

And this one's the hardest: I'm learning to set boundaries. Firm ones. The kind that don't come with apologies attached, or lengthy explanations, or the small hope that people will understand why they're necessary.

So I'm heading into this next year more optimistic than usual, which feels both terrifying and possible. Like opening a window in winter, cold and clarifying all at once.

So, merry Christmas & a happy new year, I guess. Here's to the things worth keeping, and the courage to let go of everything else.

See you on the other side!

There’s something hauntingly beautiful about Venice in November. The fog draping the city like a veil, the deserted streets at night, luncheons by the canals wrapped in blankets — it’s a quiet kind of magic.

For years now, I’ve made a ritual of visiting Venice every November. Wandering its labyrinthine streets, defying my lactose intolerance with far too much cheese, and marvelling at the sheer audacity of its architecture.

November in Venice stirs something rare in me — a fragile kind of vulnerability. It’s the city I lose myself in to piece myself back together, the haven I retreat to when limerence takes hold, and the escape I gift myself once the year’s final tasks are laid to rest.

It’s also where I allow myself to indulge — the only drink I have all year, the thoughts I usually banish, and the emotions I try to keep tightly locked away.

Autumn has arrived at last! Mornings now bring the sight of my breath in the crisp air during dog walks, the jumpers have made their return from the back of the closet, and soups are simmering on the stove, while I cradle a warm cuppa tea in my hands.

September slipped by quietly, save for the three-day rainstorm that turned my basement into a makeshift swimming pool. Not to worry, my belongings are safe.

Truth be told, September was otherwise rather uneventful. I wrapped up a few home projects, tackled some overdue cleaning and reorganising, and tried to make sense of how this flat can work for me going forward.

I spent a good bit of time in my head — September tends to do that to me. It carries this quiet sense of new beginnings, a habit carried over from the back-to-school days that still sneaks up on me every year.

SOME OTHER THINGS:

• Remember when I mentioned I’d dive back into Daily Drawings? Well, it seems I haven’t. I don’t know what happened; the habit slipped away, and now I find myself struggling to reignite it.
• Treated myself to a rather beautiful purse from Ralph Lauren that had been on my wishlist for quite some time.
• Worked a lot — on both client work and side projects.
• Went for many long walks and hikes with Rufus and a thermos filled with hot tea.
• Had a terrible Hashimoto's flare-up. This has been going on for a while now but seems to have crescendoed. I've been really tired, experiencing a lot of brain fog and can't seem to remember hardly anything.

Memorable reads

• The Third Gilmore Girl: I listened to the audiobook, narrated by none other than Kelly Bishop herself. She unfolds the story of her life with unapologetic candour — fierce, raw, and utterly captivating.
• Know My Name: This is the powerful account of Chanel Miller, who shares the story of her sexual assault and the complex aftermath that followed — emotionally and within the court system.

september bookmarks

1. Recreating dog food from the last 2,000 years
2. What happened to public bathrooms?
3. Should you have to pay for online privacy?
4. The undeniable utility of CSS
5. Ranking your strangest recipes