“Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow.”
― William Shakespeare

As I wonder what to write on my last post, the word “last” creeps in.
The last, the final. No more.
I freeze in the moment, and suddenly I have nothing to write, nothing to share.
That is not acceptable, that won’t do.
I don’t lose words, I don’t get tongue-tied. I slow down, I think before I speak, I put care in the words I say but I do not, can not, lose my words.

So I smile. Of course I smile. I think of all the words I’ve written, I remember when I was invited to join Mortal Muses. – “Me? Why me?” – I felt so honoured, being asked to join a community of photography lovers!
Oh goody, I could write about photography and poetry and things of interest, all that my heart desired.
Yay, she thought.

13970055724_92775c42a6_o-1024x682Then it hit me.
I wasn’t a professional. My bio clearly stated I had a tendency to get lost. I didn’t even own a phone.
For most times, even my writing was “wrong”, as I use too many stops and don’t really follow through the rules of speech and writing. – Let’s attribute that to my dyslexia yes?
Clearly, I thought to myself, they had made a mistake.

But as I smile now, looking back, thinking back, reading it all, it was a beautiful match.

20130901-232949I wrote about familiar ground and I struggled to write about reviews, I pulled through and found myself excited to write about things that felt dear to me. Reviews became easier and Conversations were my favorite, I thrived on imagination and was fortunate to interview and write words together with people who enjoyed the way I saw the world.
I got to pick Themes and direct people through months of inspiration. I got emails with kind words and I realized, for the first time, that I was truly having an impact on others.
Their view on life was being influenced by what I showed them.

You see, I was being inspired by them and inspiring them back, in a wonderful ball of snow, where there was no beginning nor end.
I wrote words about women I met through photography, women who shared the same feelings, regardless of being professionals or amateurs. Everyone had crappy days, everyone forgot deadlines and everyone drank coffee or wine.

I still need to work on that.


I, like most people, am not fond of goodbyes, mostly because it’s usually not me, it really is them.
I don’t deal well with people who can’t accept that when you cause pain, you must accept the other person will leave, and when a river runs its course, it dries.
But also, when a task is complete, it ends.

There is beauty in this.
I know this because, I didn’t really know what to write on my farewell until a movie came on and it caught my eye. It’s actually a favorite movie, and every time I watch it, something resonates. And this time was no different, what is usually one of my favorite moments in the movie, escalated to an even higher level of favoritness.

So I end with his words, because who else but Shakespeare could write a sweet goodbye?


“When King Lear dies in Act V, do you know what Shakespeare has written?
He’s written “He dies.”
That’s all, nothing more. No fanfare, no metaphor, no brilliant final words. The culmination of the most influential work of dramatic literature is
“He dies.”
It takes Shakespeare, a genius, to come up with “He dies.” And yet every time I read those two words, I find myself overwhelmed with dysphoria. And I know it’s only natural to be sad, but not because of the words “He dies,” but because of the life we saw prior to the words. (…)
I am not asking you to be happy that I must go.
I’m only asking that you turn the page, continue reading…
and let the next story begin.”
― Dustin Hoffman

Now go outside. Keep shooting.