His Other Lover

long stitch binding, 11x14x1,5cm + approx. 65cm
the covers are laminated paper, the spine is made of Finnish reindeer parchment, the inside pages are vellum paper, the hair is made from French-Finnish dictionary pages, sewn with waxed linen thread
I’ve never had so many sleepless nights in my life as I have this year, and it’s still January. I can count the nights I have slept well or even relatively well with the fingers of one hand, hence my prolonged absence here. Ghostwalking for weeks. On one of those sleepless nights this idea was born. His Other Lover. I have always shared the ones I care for with literature and the yearning for words and stories. Both my ex and V are poets. (I am too.) I can’t remember a time when literature wasn’t somehow sneaking into my relationships. I weaved the strips of dictionary pages into a loose braid, like literature wove itself into my love life. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair. She’s a sweet seductress I’m willing to welcome.
Due to the unusual form of this book-object, I won’t be listing it to Etsy as I haven’t yet figured out the best way to ship it. If you are interested in purchasing this, please don’t hesitate to contact me privately and I’ll work something out.
I have a little something different up my sleeve too, but it may have to wait a week or two. I’m super excited even in this exhausted state of mind of mine. I’ll let you know as soon as I have some official news to share.


Last night I dreamt of blogging. I had two photographs. The first was of me riding my new bicycle (it was one of those granny style bicycles, a red one if I remember correctly), it was yesterday but actually summer already and my hair was longer. The second one was of me sleeping today. It was taken very close up, you could count my eyelashes if you wanted to (there aren’t very little of those), and the pillowcase was bright white instead of the red it really is. I just really wanted to share those photos with you, they were beautiful and I looked genuinely happy. In the dream I ended up just writing you the words yesterday and today even though I wanted to tell you everything about how I got the bike and who took the photo of me sleeping.

In another dream I thought about how much times have changed, how there used to be dinosaurs everywhere around this time of year when I was a child; how in the recent years there had only been some; and how this year I had not seen a single dinosaur. This is how old I am.

I don’t want to go home.

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