Bornholm is a Danish island located in the Baltic sea, an outpost of granite stone and shifting light, where - outside of the tourism season - time stretches and folds into itself.
Through the lens of my own solitude, I notice how the island breathes its inner life. The seasons arrive not in grand gestures, but in tonal shifts: the greens deepen, the apples are harvested, the sun lingers or flees. Sunsets blaze through the woods like something private being revealed. Being here a woman alone, either spending a chapter of life or creating a new one, isn't about avoidance, but about shaping contours of self through natural rhythms on unfamiliar soil.
Through the lens of my own solitude, I notice how the island breathes its inner life. The seasons arrive not in grand gestures, but in tonal shifts: the greens deepen, the apples are harvested, the sun lingers or flees. Sunsets blaze through the woods like something private being revealed. Being here a woman alone, either spending a chapter of life or creating a new one, isn't about avoidance, but about shaping contours of self through natural rhythms on unfamiliar soil.
