Welcome to inside my head
So, what lives inside?
Most of the time, I live with thousands of thoughts inside my head. I could even say that I feel the idea of “overthinking” the thing so many people experience in every part of my body. There are moments when I feel overwhelmed, unsure of how to cope with this state of mind. As a small way of dealing with so many thoughts, I developed the habit of writing. Through it, I found a way to pour what was inside me into my imagination and create a world I had never discovered before. In this way, the thoughts that arrived as either a burden or a gift slowly calmed down and found a purpose. Sometimes, it even helps you face and accept the deepest version of the thoughts living inside your head.
I have always loved art. Because of this, most of what I wrote and shared naturally remained within a literary space. But over time, I realized that knowing myself only through this side of me did not make up the whole of my thoughts. There were other ways I could place and understand what was going on inside me. By taking a few underlying themes from the things I wrote, I slowly found myself turning toward those subjects. In a way, it became easier to understand who I am and make myself more visible. The people, moments, and things I currently find myself drawn to are helping me uncover the elements that define me. They feel a bit like building a bowl of ramen; the main ingredient is there, but so are the vegetables and sauces chosen alongside it, quietly shaping the whole dish into what it becomes.
So then, what is it that I truly think about?
I started writing by keeping a journal. In the beginning, I discovered how comforting it could be to express my thoughts, even through something simple. But after a while, it slowly moved beyond ordinary journaling. What I wrote began to take on a literary tone, and somewhere along the way, I found myself watching it unfold with admiration. Watching my fingers move across the keyboard, I found myself realizing that literature had always been the main source feeding my thoughts. With the sense of relief that writing brought me, journaling slowly gave way to something more, and I began sitting down to write with real discipline. Somewhere along the way, I found myself inside fiction. I fell in love with the blurry edges of imagination, its associations, and its quiet secrets. Most of the time, spending time there living inside that imagined world, became one of my greatest comforts. That is why I see the time I spend there as my own Alice in Wonderland. Because of this, I often return to Alice to reinforce and make sense of my inner world.
Reading is my number one activity, my favorite life routine, in a way. Simply put: morning, afternoon, evening… I read. I also see books as my greatest textbooks. They offer the practical and tangible side of what I learned while studying literature. Whether in terms of technique or language, the best examples are often already there, living inside their pages. For a long time now, I have been especially drawn to Asian literature. I find myself constantly returning to Japanese literature in particular. There is something about its simplicity, and the way the intensity of ordinary life can suddenly strike you, that deeply moves me. And the unique, simple way of expressing every subject immediately draws me in.
A few years ago, I discovered Haruki Murakami, and suddenly, my world changed. The spaces woven together with music, a nostalgic sense of time, quiet moments of self-discovery and emotional states in his novels all felt dizzying. His world itself feels confusing, filled with a twisting, aching sense of curiosity, and at the same time extraordinary, like being on a roller coaster you never really want to get off. (I am especially thinking of Sputnik Sweetheart here.) Sometimes, I find myself nodding along in agreement, and other times, feeling as though I am on the verge of tears. The way love exists in his novels, melancholic, yet deeply attached to life, keeps me from putting the pages down. He lays bare both that quiet feeling of love that somehow lets you keep breathing, and the whirlpool of its greatest pain. Whenever I finish one of his books, I find myself feeling strangely lost, not quite knowing what to do next.
Meiko Kawakami and Kazuo Ishiguro are my other favorites. The way Kawakami approaches the naked truths inside her now-classic works feels flawless and complete to me. I often think, half seriously, that I want to be like her when I grow up. And Ishiguro… Never Let Me Go. I find it impossible to shake off the effect his work has on me. The moment I see his name, I can almost feel childhood longing and the world of memories hitting me like a slap across the face, leaving my eyes full of tears. These three are, without question, my own Japanese big three.
This also led me to develop an interest in elements of Asian culture and mythology. I wanted to feel connected to the energy and culture that nourished those worlds. One of the first things I explored was Chinese astrology. Through this, I learned that the year I was born was the Year of the Rabbit. But later, I discovered that beyond this general classification, my actual Chinese zodiac sign is the Tiger. Apparently, the combination of these two is sometimes described as a transitional spirit. I also learned that this year is considered especially lucky for my Chinese zodiac sign. Because of this, I decided to embrace this year as my year, to live it as my own Rabbit Year.
Although my love for Japanese literature is still very much alive, lately I feel completely consumed by the classics. Right now, I am reading Jane Austen’s short story collection Marriage, and I realized how much I had missed the sharpness of her style, her language, and its energy.
I had previously read Pride and Prejudice during my high school years, but looking back, I realized I could barely remember it line by line. Because of this, I feel genuinely excited to pick it up again. It feels like a fairy tale but at the same time, there are mothers trying to marry you off, and large eyed neighboring wolves quietly waiting nearby. I admire the way she looks at English high society and aristocracy through the witty, outspoken voice of a young woman, at times carrying a fierce elegance, and at others, an almost enviable sense of defiance. There is something fearless and unbendable in that temperament. The way themes like pride and prejudice, things we still recognize in modern love, were written with so much intelligence, charm, and almost fairy dust in the past feels like something to envy.
Sometimes, I simply want to have a good cinephile experience. The very first thing I do after finishing a film is open Letterboxd, log it, and give it a rating. It is both entertaining and, admittedly, a little pathetic in a way. The film I finished this weekend, Bonjour Tristesse (Hello Sadness), created exactly that kind of feeling. I can say that it stayed with me. I later learned that it is based on Françoise Sagan’s novel, a work that became a French classic and had previously been adapted before this recent version.
Our young main character, who lost her mother at a young age, shares a very close relationship with her father. The warmth and sincerity of their father-daughter bond was the first thing that kept me completely drawn to the screen. But the arrival of a woman -someone who used to be part of a close trio with her parents in their younger years, and one of their closest friends- slowly begins to create tension in their relationships. The second thing that stayed with me was the cinematography and the camera work. It felt so visually comforting. The warm texture of the Mediterranean scenery reminded me of the warmth of home. And the third was the feeling of summer love blending into the sea. I loved the tenderness of girlhood, first love, and the intimacy of the father-daughter relationship. It felt as though I was quietly witnessing something unfolding at the next table.
The visual atmosphere of the cinematography reminded me of Andrea Serio’s paintings. I had discovered his work while looking for paintings for last week’s piece, and his images, ones that somehow made me feel at home, had quietly stayed with me ever since. His drawing style, made up of lines that almost look as if they were sketched in pencil, carries something deeply familiar. At first glance, the way my eyes wander across them takes me back to the shimmer of childhood. The Mediterranean painter’s color palette and luminous light awakened so many feelings in me; like painting the walls yellow or bringing home a blue hydrangea.
I had taken a long break from YouTube. For a while, I could not find the motivation to sit down and watch anything at all. But recently, I opened the app again and slowly returned to my subscriptions. That was when I realized how much I had missed watching Birta Hlin.
There is something very warm, sincere, and effortlessly cool about the way she lives. I often find myself looking forward to seeing her desire to explore life more deeply, her travels around the world, her recipes, and the small touches she brings to decoration. I love the way she makes life feel fun and optimistic in her own unique way. I also admire her approach to fashion; dressing according to what she truly likes and feels comfortable in, her distinctive style, playful accessories, and the way she turns bags into part of her own little fashion game. Every week, I enjoy seeing Copenhagen through its changing seasons, the atmosphere, the colors, and the quiet liveliness each one brings. (This might also come from the fact that I’ve been watching a lot of Scandinavian crime series.)
Lately, I’ve developed a habit of finding just one song I like and putting it on repeat. Olivia’s new song is one of those. It has had me completely obsessed ever since it came out. It is the first single from her upcoming album, and despite its very long title, it carries such a refreshing and bright feeling. The song holds the intensity and permanence of a young girl falling in love for the first time. From immediately checking their social media to creating endless little scenarios in your mind… to the feeling of a first date that somehow makes your whole spirit want to dance. That very first moment when you believe this feeling might last forever. It feels so fresh and carries so much of that first youthful. At the same time, I deeply love the dramatic and melancholic atmosphere quietly running beneath it. I find myself imagining that I’m living in the Palace of Versailles, dancing freely and getting lost in daydreams.
One night I was bored in bed
And stalked you on the internet
It's feminine intuition
'Cuz I always had a vision of us standing like this.
Big love
Berna
The ramen theory of identity, main ingredient plus the sauces you choose around it, is a genuinely lovely way to describe taste as self-portrait. And a French reader's seal of approval on the Bonjour Tristesse pick, loved ittt
Writing being the thing that gives all those thoughts somewhere to go - I get that completely. There's something about putting it into words that makes it feel less like noise and more like something you can actually look at. Glad you're here🩵🫂