Short story​: One bizarre day in Bloomsbury​




Monday, 6th. of August. Location: Carnaby Street, Bloomsbury.

The year, unknown. 

It happened one sunny afternoon when a man was walking down a street he knew all too well. From afar, it looked like he could be heading to a business meeting or a law firm. His black coat, nice and long, his hair, freshly cut and smeared with wax. His face, empirically handsome and shaved. The buttons on his shirt and the briefcase he was holding could tell almost anyone about his blue-blooded upper-class-status. And yet, for whatever particular reason, there was a murky cloud about him that day. In the midst of passing colorful houses with storied pasts, shops with titles everyone recognized from all parts of the world and pubs where his mates would meet for a Sunday pint, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure – almost dissolving into the crowd.  Long and slim she was, dressed in a 1920s fur-coat. Her hair was of a lustrous black, her skin, pale as snow. 

“I’m sorry. Julia?”  he uttered by the time he had lurked his way through the herd of tourists and deafening middle-school students. His hand was touching her shoulder now. She turned around slowly and locked eyes with the stranger. 

“I … think you are mistaken. I’m Alexandra. Not Julia.” 

The man shook his head. “Julia … come on. You do have the talent of making a fool out of me, but fooling me would be impossible. You know that.”

The lady said nothing, only smiled. Then she pulled out her hand and greeted him hello. “I’m Alexandra, I’m visiting a friend here. Originally from Poland. And … you are?”

The man couldn’t help but laugh; Joyful over having met an old ghost from his past yet stunned by the lady’s slight Slavic accent on her English. 

“Okay … Julia. Joke’s over. You can let go of the facade now.” 

The lady looked down for a couple of minutes. Then she paused her breath and said harshly: “Believe me I am telling you the truth. We have not under any circumstances met each other before. Trust me. I’d remember you.” And with no apparent intention of seeming discrete, she then studied the man’s tall figure from the top of his forehead and all the way down to his bottom feet. “No. Never seen you before. Sorry, you must’ve mistaken me for someone else.” 

“Are you suggesting there are two of you?” The man asked, pulling them both away from the crowds of people and into a street-corner, next to an Italian bakery.  “Because you are the spitting image of a girl I used to know in my old school days. I …” The man closed his speech abruptly, as if in slight hesitation as to what he was about to say next. “I refuse to let you go before I find a way of solving this mystery.” The man blushed as his gaze went downwards, embarrassed by the flock of middle-schoolers passing them at that moment. 

The lady looked weary. “Is this some sort of a pickup-line? If so, I honestly don’t have time for this right now. Let go of my arm, please.” 

The man shook his head and smiled nervously. “I can assure you that for the present moment, all my actions are sanctioned with complete romantic sobriety. I am, in other words, not on the look for a partner.” 

“Then what do you want? Aren’t you heading somewhere?” She took a quick glance at the man’s briefcase. 

“Oh … not really. I … Okay. I might as well tell you.” he said and felt a flush of shame. “I just got fired from my job.” 

“And now you just saw someone who reminded you of a nostalgic past?” The woman suggested with a curious smile. “Random day ha?”


“And that made you feel something?” 

With those words, the man felt a cold mist swirling through the insides of his body. In an instant, he realized what a lumpish fool he had been, assaulting a stranger on the street and practically forcing her to admit to a false identity. “Listen, Alexandra. You probably have things to do in town, so .. I’ll leave you be. Sorry for the inconvenience. Goodbye.” The man walked off in a hurry, but his feet had not reached far when he felt a cold hand grab his shoulder and spun him to the other side. It was the lady. 

“Hold on!” she said, locking eyes with the stranger again. “This sort of thing doesn’t happen often. If I have doubleganger, I would at least like to see her picture. If … you have one.” The man let his mind wander for a moment, then slowly, he motioned towards her. “Alright. You do have a point. If I’d ever meet someone who knew my doubleganger, I’d be raging with excitement. Would you …” The man placed his gaze at the Italian pastry-shop, situated just opposite them. “Would you like to have a coffee with me?” 

Inside the coffee shop, sitting opposite a little round table with one candlelight, two espressos, and a large lemon cheesecake to share, silence had fallen between the two strangers. While the man carefully sipped his strong coffee, he studied Alexandra’s eyes, lips, nose, and forehead – his look on her, induced with noticeable amazement. “Can you stop?” she laughed, turning her bashful face away from him. “I’m not her. Most likely you’re just infatuated with a daydream. I mean, we must have some differences. It’s impossible for two people to be like clones.” 

“I guess you’re right.” the man said and finally pulled up a picture hiding in the insides of his wallet. “See?” he pointed to the polaroid. “Her hair was shorter, a bit thicker and hazel-colored. And her eyes … I was reluctant to admit it at first, but … I can see now that they were greener. Not so brown, as yours.” 

Alexandra studied the photo of a girl dressed in pastel-colored 50s clothes, sitting on a wooden bar-stool, her hands clasping around a tall glass of beer, her pale cheeks, flushed with a pinkish red.

“Very cute.” Alexandra murmured under her breath, her eyes still fixed on the photo. “She looks like a girl in love.” 

“She was …” he said. “Vulnerable too.” 

“Hey!” She spurted out, breaking the forlorn energy that seemed to have amounted them both. “You haven’t introduced yourself yet. I don’t know your name.” 

“That is true.” the man said. “Well …” With his hand pulling out to meet Alexandra’s and his eyes fixed on hers, he uttered out: “I’m Larry Blythe; Born in Exeter under the poor choice of my parents – who, also gave me a name I loathe more than anything. British to the blood, meaning impeccably dull, with no sense of humor except for the one inherited by the famous sitcom, Monty Python. Lousy at cooking, exceptionally good at making weak and watery coffee, a secret sci-fi geek and … painfully inadequate in love.” 

“Well you do have the British sarcasm going for you.” she giggled as her eyes grew wider with each look on him. “Now …” she paused, her voice, this time, somber and more serious: “The world has yet to know … what happened with Julia?”

“That’s unfair.” the man said. “First, I need to know about you. You said earlier that you arrived here from… Poland, was it?”

“No.” She said, shaking her head in a firm manner. “Let’s do a game. First, tell me about your friend Julia. Then, I’ll see how much I have in common with her. If we’re very similar, we have a doubleganger. If we’re not, you’re delusional.” 


The man thought the game to be ridiculous, and in a moment or two, he wondered why he had even accepted a coffee with a complete stranger on the street.  I might as well go along with it … He thought, brushing his British intolerance off, staring callously into the eyes of a woman he had yet to know. 

“So … Tell me about her!” Alexandra yammered out, her eyes glittering with curiosity. 

The man nodded, then asked her what she would want him to explain. 

“Everything! What was her favorite thing to do? What foods did she like? How did she talk, was she humorous? Was she good at dancing?” 

“Alright. I guess there’s no choice huh?” he added, placing his gaze away from the woman and out the window, eyeing the glistening rain that had started falling from the sky two minutes ago. Then, with a soft voice, he told her … everything.

For the remaining hour and a half, he called upon the time spent with Julia in his younger, more youthly years. He told her about their friendship, about everything she had taught him, about their arguments and their irrecusable differences of which eventually, led them to their parting. He spoke in detail about her genius; Her ability to learn a new language within a week, her fondness of the Greek myths, Aristotle and Plato. And most importantly, he told her about his own ignorance. 

“She trumped me in every way …” the man sighed, his eyes, still fixed on the rain pattering on the window-glass. 

“And you felt … threatened?” Alexandra asked, mesmerized by the detailed recollections of his past. 

“Not threatened,” he answered and took a deep look into Alexandra’s eyes. “Worse. I didn’t understand her enthusiasm. By the time we went from being friends to lovers, I had a hard time keeping up with the ways of her world. She did not fit into my social circle. I did not fit into hers. Her conservative parents insisted on us getting married. Every day, every hour, she was impatiently waiting on a ring. We parted, I guess I left her with a broken heart. No! I know I left her with a broken heart. It was obvious! She loved me, but in ways, I could not comprehend. When we called the whole thing off, I looked at the whole situation with indifference. I thought it best that we left our worlds and social-circles unharmed. I was happy with my ignorance. But then … I realized my foolery, and I slowly but surely began … despising myself for it.” 

The man’s voice had evolved over the course of their conversation; It was deeper now, less cheerful. And to Alexandra’s astonishing surprise, his chosen words and tone almost sounded crestfallen – as if, she was talking to a man at the very peak of committing suicide. With that, she boldly decided to ask the most obvious question of them all: 

“Do you .. wish you could go back, experience it all again? Perhaps … do things differently?”

“Do I wish?!” the man cried. “Do I wish?!” he howled again, still staring into the woman’s eyes with a dismal expression.

“I’d die for her to speak to me again,” he said, lowering his head in despair. “Of course, when I realized my mistake in letting her go, she had already moved on. The woman refused to return any of my phone calls or voice-mails. I sent her a letter with an update on my life every year. They were all sent back to me.” 

“But …” Alexandra sensed there was some piece of information she was missing. Hesitant at first, but curious to know the truth of it all, she burst out: “It can’t have been that bad! Surely this woman – Julia – would have forgiven you after all these years?” 

The man sighed and took a quick stare out the window again when he said: “I’m afraid I left out a little detail in my story …  Alexandra … I … ” He paused for a second, then turned his gaze down on his shoes and continued: “I did something bad. Something really really bad.” 




To be continued …. part 2 will be published next week. Stay tuned… 





A short story: The night I read “Inferno” by Dante


Yesterday, late at night, I stumbled upon a tale of darkness and despair. It was just over 1  o clock, the moon was up, the stars shone bright and I was utterly and completely mesmerized by the excruciating horror of Dante’s words. Stiff as a stick, I lay there in my bed, turning the pages over. My skin pale as a ghost’s. My body, not being able to move a muscle, blood was flowing through my veins and with eyes wide open, I stared into the darkness as the window-curtains slowly but surely began … to move. Fright shook me at that moment. A black curtain had become a sordid serpent, lurking its way from across the room and into my bed. Was I awake or was I – like Dante – also finding myself in the midst of a vivid nightmare? Had I gone mad? No. I squinted my eyes and began to understand what was happening. It was Dante’s effect on me – from the very beginning of his opening lines; Describing a hell on earth, his galvanizing words had electrified my brain and lured me into a world of hallucinations. I looked over at the snake again. It was closer now, and it moved towards me at a rapid speed until its eyes, only about four centimeters away from my face, stared directly into my soul. A tremendous amount of fear and excitement lurked beneath the surface of my mind, but I did not stop. I could not stop. I had to continue reading. If I looked up from the book, the serpent would move closer. If I looked down on my book, it would stay at its original spot. The situation was clear: I was fighting a battle between my hallucinatory unconsciousness and the distraction of Dante’s story. So the only thing I could possibly do was to continue reading without stop. And that was when it happened; That was when I knew I had gone mad for good. Yes, reader. You heard me right: I was in this moment being dragged into the book. Against my will, Dante himself had fought through the pages with his forceful arm, pushed against my chest, clutched his hand on my nightgown and hauled me into a dark hole that would lead us both into the woods of a spiritual realm of suffering. On hard ground, we landed, in the middle of a surreal landscape that consisted of an inland sea, sepia-colored bushes and heaps of dirt, sheltered by the tallest trees; Everything smeared in blood. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected myself up from the ground and stared fearfully into the eyes of Dante Alighieri. Unable to utter a single word, I studied his tall, dark figure, his long, downward nose, and his surprisingly foul gaze. “Do you feel that smell?” he then asked in the deepest and cruelest of voices. What smell, I wondered. But then I knew. And .. I must tell you, it was by far the least pleasant surprise I had ever encountered throughout my twenty years on earth; It was the smell of feces. With a disgust so unbearable, as much for the eyes as for the nostrils, I turned my eye gaze down on my body as I came to realize that it was all covered in human excrement. The stench of it – so insufferable, that no word in any vocabulary could ever seize to compare with such an odor. It was if I allow myself to say it, an experience that could make you gag forever. “That is the body-waste of all the sinners in the second circle of Hell,” Dante spoke. “Those wretched creatures believe they can rid themselves of their wrongdoings if only they release their internal waste matter,” he continued and gave a quick grin. “What they do not know is that the Lord sees their sins as far too critical, ever to be reconciled. In the end … they’ll be drowning in their own excrement.” He pointed to a large bowl far out into the forest where human screams and cries could be heard from a mile’s distance. “It is not “fire” they are drowning in,” Dante said and laughed, as he grabbed my wrist and guided me into the next circle of Hell.”

The next landscape was that of a shore; A gigantic sea had caught our full attention, so dark and so massive that human eyes could not reach to see the end of it. In between the waves, one was able to spot a sinner or two, fighting the sharks that would bite off one limb every time they screamed or hollered a cry for help. This stage of brutality made the whole sea go red with human blood. Over the water, the skies were engaging in a frightful storm. Buckets of rain mixed with chunks of hail pattered dismally on the concrete roads, followed by a lightning-strike every second minute or so. In front was a wooden dock, which would lead the path to a tall, white lighthouse. “Why is it white?” I asked, all baffled. “When the rest of Hell is painted dark …”. Danté answered: “The lighthouse is where all the angels come and visit from heaven. They need a break every now and then in order to grasp the contrast of their situation. You see, they cannot be fully happy in heaven with all the splendor and luxury if they do not get to see a little bit of suffering as well. It eases their minds, as they are reminded of how lucky they are for having been good in life on earth. When they are finished, they fly back home.” Dante said as he then gave me signs to follow his lead onto the wooden dock. “But Dante, where do you belong?” I asked as we had reached the front entrance of the lighthouse. He then took a long look on me – a look I will seize to remember for as long as I live – followed by the most unforgettable words: “After my death in 1321, God sent me here”. Again – words cannot describe what horror swam through my body at that moment. Dante was sent to hell. My ears could not believe the sort of information they had received, so I continued to interrogate him in a desperate sort of manner: “Why would they do such a thing? You were Dante Alighieri! You were one of the big great authors! I live in the 21st millennia and people still continue to praise you and read your work!” Dante looked at me again – and I swear on my mother’s death when I say that no moral reason could support the monstrosity in his current countenance when he uttered: “You just told yourself the reason as to why they sent me here.” At this moment I swear I heard my own heart hammer so rapidly, so much that I could almost feel the palpitation of every single artery inside my body. “What do you mean Dante? They sent you here because you were a genius?” 

“Geniuses …” Dante said “Or as I call them, talented men, will forever bear the weary load of envy and disgust, led on by the mediocracy. The inadequate population always wins in the end. They always have and they always will.” He then turned his back on me as he let his eyes wander into the night sky while uttering the words under his breath: “If you must know … the real reason why they sent me here, is because of the book you’re reading right now. It never should have been published in the first place.” Dante traversed the path around the lighthouse back and forth as he spoke, as if without any clear conception of where he would lead me to next. I, of course, followed his every lead with great anticipation. “Hold on!” I hollered. “So … was it wrong of you to describe Heaven and Hell because … because it was true?” I first dared not say the last words but curiosity killed me and I had already traveled this far … “You need to understand this child,” he said. “Life is not a playground filled with unicorns and sugarcanes. It is cruel. It is dismal. And every good deed you do, no matter how honest, no matter how true, it is inevitable that you’ll have to pay your service in the end. This is mine. I told the people a version of my truth, captured through my imagination. What I failed to realize then, was that the truth I called my own, was a universal one. It was the truth of God. And even if millions of people during the 12th-century already pursued a belief surrounding heaven and hell, mine was told so vividly, so precisely – that I could not escape being punished for it.” Dante said and pointed his finger to his head. “See? Having a brain is that discouraging. I am telling you this now because I know you are a writer and a seeker of the truth. I know you wish to unlock the greatest mysteries of the world. So I am preaching to you now and only now you’ll hear it from me – don’t.” He then pointed to a large, blackened crucifix, standing in the middle of the sea before us. It was the only cross that received the lightning-strikes coming from the sky in a consistent manner, yet, somehow, it did not surrender. “That is Nicolaus Copernicus,” Dante said. “Because of his baffling intelligence about the placements of the sun and the earth in the universe, God has turned him into a cross. Now he is being punished every minute by electrocutions of the lightning strikes. Yet, he never dies. As a cause of his good deeds on earth, God wanted him to have an eternal experience of a chronical state of pain”. Then Dante pointed towards a mountain, swimming in the water on the other side of the sea. There was a naked man climbing it, step by step, his blue skin stained with blood and blemish scars. With his meager arms, he pushed a rock the size of an English cottage with all his remaining strength, only to see the rock roll down again by the time he was two feet away from the top. “That is Socrates,” he told me. “Not only was the brilliant man condemned to death by false charges, but he also has to do the impossible task of pushing a rock up a mountain, again and again, for eternity.” 

“But what is it all good for?!” I cried as I watched all the horror and the wretchedness going on repeat around me.

“God has human characteristics too. Didn’t you know?” 

“But Dante! How can this be human?!” 

“My dear child,” Dante said and patted me on the head. “Envy is a human thing. It comes in all shapes and sizes. God punishes the good because they often exceed himself. Their wit outsmarts him, their humbleness often makes him look like a fool. No one can exceed the excellence of our Lord. If they do, they are punished.”

“But I thought the devil punished?!” I cried again. 

“Oh no. You have been mistaken. See, God rules over Hell, while Lucifer rules over Heaven. It is the very essence of what we call balance.” 

“What does the devil do?”

“The devil gives praise and grandeur to the ones who have obtained nothing in their lives. The people you see walking on the streets, the gentlemen who work, the wives who occupy their days with mundane things, the townsmen who never feel the urge to express creativity, feed their virtue with books and knowledge or offer service to their community – they are the ones who get to live carefree lives in heaven.” 

With this, I trembled down on the ground before him: I could not endure looking at, or far less to allude to, the events of the preceding night. “Oh, mother Jesus!” I howled, my eyes filled with tears. “Why does it have to be so unfair!?! Why can’t I help them?!” 

Dante laughed like never before. The sound of it, evil. His eyes, glimmering with a peculiar form of self-possessed wickedness. “You … you think life is fair?” he laughed again, this time, with even greater delight. “Oh … you have much to learn my dear. Now. I have bestowed you my presence, my current situation in hell and my ultimate guidance to a carefree afterlife. I will, therefore, leave you, as I have finished my duty. An angel who goes by the name “Ignoria” will soon come out of the lighthouse and escort you home. Now remain safe, and remember my words. Farewell.” And in the blink of an eye, he vanished, followed by a dark, musty smoke that disappeared as quickly as it’s arrival. The angel came out from one of the windows of the lighthouse – a beauty she was: Her gown was made of silk that carried shades of light sepia and cream-color, her hair, golden, her eyes, miraculously blue and a face so perfectly symmetrical. On the back of her neck, there were wings. “Come with me,” she whispered gently in my ear and touched my shoulder with her ivory-skin. Then she carried me, almost weightless I was, all the way up towards the moon and the sun. On my way there I went through the skies of Hell: Tornado storms, lightning strikes, gloomy clouds, and a specific kind of coolness that bites you in the neck. Then I entered the skies of heaven: pink-colored clouds made out of sugar, people so beautiful – it would be impossible to depict them – were dancing to the sound of rhythmic church-quire that came from above. Angels kissing, falling in love, reading poetry over candlelight, cherry-wine, and goat cheese, all served on silver platters. Then after a while, we reached the sky of the earth, and soon enough, I was dropped – almost out of nowhere – back to where I belonged: In my bed with the book in my hands. 


Aftur S. Nerdrum 







The magic of science – how I went from hating it to loving it

science-illustrations-17th-century-middle-temple-libraryThe noble prize winning Swiss physicist, Heinrich Rohrer said:

“Science means constantly walking a tightrope between blind faith and curiosity; between expertise and creativity; between bias and openness; between experience and epiphany; between ambition and passion; and between arrogance and conviction – in short, between an old today and a new tomorrow.”

I believe what he means by this statement is that science is more than just an intellectual and practical activity encompassing the systematic structure of the physical world. It’s philosophy, it’s connections, it’s secret codes that need to be unlocked by detectives in long white coats.  

Why didn’t they teach us that in school? 

For years I have loathed everything that’s got to do with science, including the universe, planets, biology, chemistry, physiology, and mathematics. Oh, and science fiction – I was known to talk badly about the books and the movies. I didn’t understand why anyone would be so concerned about what goes on in space. Traveling to Mars, what is it good for? Why not try to fix life down here on earth? In schools, they would present scientific subjects in a much serious way – telling us that if we were interested in science, we’d probably wind up being doctors. Did I want to be a doctor? No. Absolutely not! So I decided to fail it. I studied rarely, I only knew about names such as Albert Einstein, Isaac Newton, Charles Darwin, Galileo Galilei, and Nicolaus Copernicus. Little did I know what they stood for, how much of an impact they’ve had on this world – that we can actually thank THEM for all the knowledge we know NOW about the universe, quantum physics and the possibility of time-travel. 

Now you may ask … so how did I end up liking all of this? Can a person actually go from loathing science fiction to … loving it?

The answer to that is yes. Because it happened to me. And here’s why: 

It all started with an innocent movie called “Atlantis: The Lost Empire” from 2001. Yep, you heard me. I began my journey into scientific enlightenment through a Disney-film. Now, as surprising as this may sound, if you take a good look into the production, it actually makes a lot of sense. In short, the story is about a young man, Milo, who decides to unlock the key to unraveling an ancient mystery by looking into both historical, mythical and scientific evidence. This archetypical hero’s journey is not unheard of. In fact, these types of investigations can be found in all of the sciences: When you’re solving a difficult equation in mathematics you’re basically being a detective. The same thing applies to chemistry, physics, and astronomy. Now, this movie has been with me since I was a child, but it wasn’t until three months ago when I decided to see it again, that I found myself lost in complete fascination over the investigation of a lost kingdom, only mentioned in historical, religious and philosophical texts. We have all heard of Atlantis I thought, just like we hear about the stories from the Bible. But how fun would it be to actually take a myth and apply it to real life – see if it actually exists? 

And so I began my research into different conspiracy theories and speculations about Atlantis. I found out that Plato talks about Atlantis (in the Socratic Dialogues) as a miniature utopia that ruled over several other islands and parts of the continents of Africa and Europe. His theory surrounded a mysterious kingdom which was highly advanced and surprisingly technological. Allegedly, the kingdom got destroyed and vanished from the earth’s surface as a result of “The Great Flood” that – according to many philosophical and religious writings – happened in 4004 BCE due to the prior Ice-Age. After this natural catastrophe, the few humans that survived would have to start from scratch – time therefor began from zero again, 200 000 B.C. 

But was this true? To me, it sounded like a fun idea, but very much a false conspiracy-theory, 

So I dug a little deeper: As a somewhat childish attempt at solving the puzzle, I began to mix philosophy with science. I dove into the Greek myths, ancient texts written by the big greats (Aristotle, Socrates, and Plato) and mixed them with contemporary scientists today, such as Michio Kaku and Yuval Noah Harari. 

As a result of this, I discovered the links between the philosophers and the scientists. They were all – somehow – onto the same thing … 

  • In Harari’s new book, “Homo Deus” which came out in 2015, the author suggests that we – Homo Sapiens are slowly evolving into Homo Deus (meaning God Humans). With the technology expanding so rapidly and scientists experimenting with advanced genetical research –  at this very moment – on how to receive eternal life, it is very likely that we will, in the end, become like the Gods in the Greek mythologies. The questions then would be … are we moving forward, or backward? Can it be that humans like us have existed before? Is there a link between Atlantis and the myths inspired by the Greek Gods?
    Michio Kaku (The Tibetian physicist) is onto something similar in this video: 

According to this scientist, we’re still in the type 0 status, however, we are transitioning into the type 1 Status, which is the status that will eventually lead to Type 2; SUPERHUMANS. 

All of this led me to think that maybe we might have existed before. In other words, this civilization of technology and us evolving into superhumans could very likely have been a time before The Great Flood after the ice-age, exactly 2.4 million years ago. Does this mean we coexisted with dinosaurs? Maybe. Maybe not. But certain discoveries tell us that we definitely have existed before the official birth of Homo Sapiens, which supposedly would have been 200 000 B.C. That’s right. Not long ago, in 2017, there was a 6 million-year-old footprint discovered in Greece. The footprints are small tracks made by someone walking upright on two legs—there are 29 of them in total, and these tracks are so specific that they can’t possibly stand to comparison with any vertebrate or other living creatures that have existed on this planet. Is it possible that the historical timeline of Homo Sapiens – as we know it today – can be disproved by the next upcoming scientists? 

I don’t know. All I know is that I love science. I love space, I love the universe and I love science fiction – all because of one Disney-movie that inspired a fire in me – an interest I did not know of before about a month ago. 

I guess the conclusion is, anyone can fall in love with science. It just depends on how you present it to the individual. If Schools taught us the whole story behind mathematics and physics – not just the basics – but the whole reason why we do this, I am sure that more students would excel in these subjects. Physicists have superpowers – as they are the key-holders to our society and the future we have yet to experience. They know what we don’t know, they have most likely already predicted extraordinary, otherworldly things in which we have no clue about before we see them happening in the world. Isn’t that insane? 

I truly wish I could write more about my discoveries and more about other scientists, but that will have to wait for another article. I hope you got inspired and remember to let me know what you thought about this article below:) 



Aftur S. Nerdrum 





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Novel Sneak peek​: Chapter 1, page 26

“How funny is it that you paint!” She suddenly burst out, as a desperate attempt to avoid answering the questions he had interrogated her with earlier. “May I ask … why do you prefer calling yourself a painter and not an artist?” Jean shrugged. “Artists don’t interest me in the least. They can throw a painted shoe on a blank canvas and call it art. Anything you do can fall into that category. I paint. That’s what I do. No more, no less.”

Long silence.

Kathy didn’t know what to say next. On their long walk to town, she had already passed by beautiful neoclassical houses with terraces and rose gardens – matters of which she would normally have strong, insightful opinions about. Now, however, she was put into a situation where she was confronted with her utmost weakness: The art-world. Half stunned by the stranger’s bluntness, half ashamed of her own ignorance, she managed to utter a few more words: “I don’t quite understand – so you paint, yet, you’re not an artist?”

“What I do is a craft.” He said firmly, as he put his rugged hands on her shoulders, leading the way to an outdoor café. “It takes years of practice and hard work. The art-world consist of cheaters, liars, and people who’ve been brainwashed with the idea and notion that having no skill at all – means something. I refuse to be a part of that club.”


-A S. Nerdrum 

Today I saw something that gave me hope


And what I mean by that is … what I saw was a reminder of what life is all about. 


So what happened exactly?

 A normal Sunday. Around. 1o o clock in the morning. I’m sitting alone in the corner of a cute Italian coffee-shop where they sell the best espressos I’ve ever tasted so far. This is obviously a big part of the reason why I go here every morning. But not entirely. I also go here to eves-drop on conversations. This way I gather inspiration for my work and store them in a notebook for whenever I’m in need of ideas for a written dialogue. What I do is that I carefully note down the person’s words, their gestures, their unique attributes. And let me tell you – each conversation is entirely different and true to its stereotype: 

-The couple on their first date; Nervous voice, shaky hands, awkward questions.

 –The business meeting between the new employé and the boss; Excitement, loud voices, energetic hand-movements. 

-The retired couple on vacation; Relaxed faces, smiles that light up the whole room, mundane conversation topics. 

But today I saw something different – something that put a spark in my eyes and lit a fire to my soul:

A couple who look like they could be around 20 – 21 enters the café and sit down by the table next to me. Immediately, I’m able to spot where they’re from – The boy; Blonde, curly hair, blue shiny eyes, reddened skin, tall. The girl – brunette, brown eyes, fairly light skin. They’re from the States. 

“So, where did we end our conversation earlier?” the boy asks after the waiter has handed them two ice-lattes. 

“How do humans store their memories.” the girl replies and casually puts her iPhone aside.

“Oh right! What would happen if a human cloned themselves? Would they have the same memories or would they start from zero?” 

I stop reading my book and look up to the ceiling as to pretend I’m staring at something while listening to their conversation. For a whole hour, sentences flow out of their mouths without stop: Ideas, patterns, psychological aspects of the human mind, physics. Soon the conversation takes a turn into the more advanced theories about the world, such as Quantum mechanics, alternative universes, the probability of aliens being single-celled organisms, the differences between the brain-state and the mind-state, how human beings only think in algorithms etc. My eyes are glued to the wall and my mind is swimming around in delicious new ideas, facts, statistics, and terminologies. I am their listener, but I am also their student.

That hour of eves-dropping made me think in different ways, contemplate new ideas and form new, interesting conversation topics with my friends later. Not to mention — I regained my hope for our millennial generation. They were only kids. Yet, they were knowledgable, capable of seeing patterns and interested in unlocking the secrets of the world. 

They were interested. Not interesting. And THAT is the kind of youth that we need more of today. 

Before today, I thought they didn’t exist anymore. I thought iPhones and Computer screens had ruined our attention span and altered our ego. But here I was, listening to something which later in time would prove me wrong.

I realized how ignorant I still am and how much there is yet to learn. And this … gave me hope. 

So don’t give up on us. Continue to believe in magic. This couple was more infatuated by each other and their ideas than they were in their iPhones – and THAT is a miracle in itself. 




Aftur S. Nerdrum 

Prose #1: The Other Woman

She was the portrait every one stopped to see just one more time before leaving the museum. 

She was the Nordic light at dawn; mellow enough to keep you sane, yet distinctive in its presence – leaving you there like an old fool, wanting more. 

Words that came out of her mouth were only ever spoken in melodies. But you’d have to hold your guard. Because if you listened close enough, you’d find yourself completely captivated, mouthing pretty sonnets to yourself, day in and day out – all dedicated to her. You’d be drunk on her mouth, her tongue, her ocean of words –  your mind and your life would – without your wanting – become infused with the whole persona of one woman – you’d speak like her, smile like her, read the books in her manner. 

I knew from the very instant this happened to me – that music, literature, and paintings were all crafts invented to describe women like Alice. And I found myself – for the first time – forgiving him for leaving me. She was the other woman. But she was the better one.


– A. S Nerdrum 


20 things I’ve learned in 20 years

IMG_5204.jpegIMG_5206.jpeg1. Your body is a machine. Whatever you feed it – food or information – it will react accordingly. If you feed it junk, you’ll be junk. If you feed it with crappy reality-shows and celebrity-news, you will become like them, talk like them. If you don’t refill your battery with exercise (endorphins) and stimulating thought-processes, you will be depressed and fatigued. It takes a lifetime to find the perfect pattern that will tell you how and when to refill your battery properly and with the right portions. So start now. Don’t take this machine for granted.

2. Decrease your options in life – and you will eventually realize that it gives you MORE, not less. Don’t say yes to every event, don’t spend time with a million friends, don’t follow people you don’t care about on Social Media. Eliminate everything that doesn’t define you, lift you up or leave you feeling satisfied – and you will find where you need to be. 

3. Everyone is religious. Even atheists. Some people devote their lives to depression or anxiety. Others focus their energy around facts and figures. You might be religious about your phone – or your craft – or a God. But you ARE religious because none of us can actually survive without being submissive. We need something to guide us. Find out what your religion is, then decide whether it’s helping your life or destroying it.

4. In life, we will all suffer one of two pains: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret. Choose wisely. 

5. Human beings tend to inhale the very thing that kills them, only to feel more alive. That’s why we smoke, drink heavy alcohol and do drugs. We don’t necessarily like the substance in itself – but we enjoy the feeling of having done something we know is wrong. It doesn’t give us a “high” – what it gives us is a sense of PURPOSE. But it’s a short-term one, and it’s only attained by those who are too scared to take the big leap – too scared to finish that manuscript, go to those auditions or try something only to realize they’re bad at it. That’s why drug addicts are generally interesting people – they once had an intention to do something great with their lives. But when fear got the better of them, they relapsed and decided to drown their souls in short-term pleasures. And for the rest of their lives, they’ll continue fooling their body (with this substance) to think that they’ve done something great – to think that they have a purpose in life. 

6. Most of what you see and believe are human constructions. The city you’re born in, the border that divides yours and your neighbor countries, the name you’re given, the institution you’re forced to stay in for ten years (also called school), your hopeful parents – expecting you (or forcing you) to go to college and get a degree and become a doctor. Time, money. They’re all just abstractions that human beings – who are not smarter than yourself –  have created to put you into a box so that you can be a robot and serve a functional society, just like the rest of them. When you actually start playing around with these ideas, you’ll discover that everything is meaningless. Why should you care? You can break out of these constructions. You can make your own little island,  live by your own rules. A couple of people will be disappointed in you, but so what? You have one life. Don’t waste it on public formalities that changes every ten decades or so. 

7. Books will make you more tolerant. When you read a lot, you come across a lot of villains. Kidnappers, murderers, rapists, corrupt politicians, heartless bastards … the list goes one. Now, if you’re lucky, you might find yourself reading about these villains from a narrative perspective – meaning you’re in their lives now. YOU ARE THEM. And somehow, you discover the villain’s weak side. You begin to sympathize – and that’s when you’ve managed to put yourself into another person’s shoes – a person you never thought you’d be able to relate to. This will make you more mentally mature and it will strengthen your character in ways you never thought was possible. That’s why reading is so magical. 

8. If you want to change yourself, start with your environment. You are on average the five people that you spend the most time with every day. So choose your friends carefully. Whatever they talk about the most will enter your subconsciousness and become a part of YOU. If you’re an aspiring writer, find a group of writers. If you’re a painter, find a group of painters. Never underestimate the power of social influence. 

9. Being angry at someone can actually hurt YOU more, than the person you’re angry at. 

10. The first seven years of a human being are years in which the child will download ALL the exterior information into the unconsciousness. In fact, 95% of what we do in life, derives from those programs that we have ALREADY stored in our subconscious mind. In a way, we are living a life that has already been lived for us. What we watched our parents do – how many times they doubted themselves – what decisions they made – when they had success – all these things are ideas and choices that we unknowingly carry with us and use in times of decision-making. THAT is why it is SO SO important how you raise your child during these first years. And that is why the poor stay poor and the rich stay rich. Children of poor families (from age 1-7) have watched their parents struggle, doubt themselves and lose courage – this is why those children usually tend to have problems with this later in life. Whereas rich parents – they can have a stupid child who does stupid things and is stupid with money – but they will still be able to make money and live a decent life?! Why? Because they’re doomed – they’re already programmed to make these unconscious choices because of their parent’s success. This can apply to many other things. The trick is to ask yourself – where do you struggle in life? If you know the answer, it will likely be something you were NOT exposed to as a child from 1-7. How can you fix it? By repetition. Just like when we’re kids, we learn by things happening before our eyes over and over again. You need to practice, every day, and it will eventually stick to your subconscious mind. Only 1% of the world’s population find out about this and fix their flaws. The rest of the 99% continue living the life that is already (subconsciously) set out for them to live. 

11. We complicate our lives way too much. As human beings we are inclined to seek destruction – we tell ourselves, no, it can’t be that easy! “My life is complex and messed up and I’m never going to be like … happy. I’m just here and I hate the place I’m at right now but I can’t change it because life is just more complex than that.” No! It’s not! if you open your eyes – you’ll come to realize how easy things are. You either make a change, or you don’t. You either work on that task every day and become great at it or … you don’t! There’s no magic formula out there – that only SOME people are lucky to get in life. Life is not that complex. It really isn’t. It’s not that hard to be content and it’s not that hard to enjoy the little things. There is so much of life to enjoy already – hell, the very fact that you woke up this morning is a miracle in itself. If you take a look at the big picture, nothing really matters except that life is beautifully chaotic, filled with opportunities and YOU are more than lucky to have been born because the very fact that your parents met each other and fell in love was a coincidence. Stop complicating things, please. 

12. If it won’t matter in 5 years, don’t spend more than 5 minutes worrying about it. Seriously. Just don’t. 

13. No matter how “talented” you are, your talent will eventually fail you if you don’t practice your skill. Repetition and a hard work-ethic come first. Always. 

14. For a relationship to work, you both need to be free, independent individuals. You both NEED to have your inner home. You need to be able to make yourself happy, even in the worst of times. You need to have your own hobby, your own “cave” – that place you escape to when you just want to be alone – and you need to have your own friends. This might sound cynical and very anti-love, but it’s not. It’s highly crucial for the love, the chemistry, and the fire to still have a spark, even after many years. Perhaps your hobby or your activity is something that doesn’t resonate with your partner at all. Perhaps they don’t even like it. That’s okay! In fact, that’s better! Then you have something entirely for yourself, which is kind of awesome. Because being dependent on someone is not love, that’s an obsession. You should only ever need YOURSELF. Period. 

15. Your friends are not there to be changed or fixed – or to change/fix you. They are there to love you in spite of your differences. Dolly Parton once said: “The best friends have everything and nothing in common, all at the same time.”. Focus on your common grounds, don’t meddle with your differences. It will only ruin the relationship and create complications. You can give them guidelines, but you can’t fix them. 

16. You need to embrace an emotion before you can let it go. Go all out. Lie in your bed and cry. Scream. Talk to people about it. Analyze why you feel this way, how and why it arrived in your head and what you can do to diminish it. You need that closure because if you don’t have it, it will stick to your brain and slowly eat up your soul. Do yourself this favor today. 

17. Any bad situation can bring out something positive. Because in life, you are always the student: The abusive boyfriend that you held onto for too long was your teacher – he/she was teaching you every day what NOT to look for. Your terrible boss taught you how to handle terrible people. Your economical failure taught you what NOT to invest in next time. 

18. Treat yourself with respect and other people will start respecting you. 

19. Your life can ALWAYS, ALWAYS be rearranged. We are ever growing, therefore, ever-changing. If you think you’ll never be able to get out of your current situation, you are wrong. The reason why you haven’t done anything is just lack of courage. But this can easily change. The first step is always doing something. 

20. You’re not a writer unless you do it every day. The same rule applies to every craft. 



Aftur S. Nerdrum

I joined the San Miguel Writer’s Conference​ & Literary Festival — this is what happened and this is why it changed me …


We’re in Mexico.

We’re in the new cultural capital of North America; San Miguel de Allende.

It’s been exactly twenty days since I left my comfort zone up in the North. 

It’s the day after my last day at the San Miguel Writer’s Conference and I’m speechless. 

Where to start? 


I had never been to a writers conference before.


Perhaps I didn’t see the point, or perhaps I was just too scared … was I even good enough? What about my age? People will laugh at me when they discover how young I am. A twenty-year-old little girl hoping to make a living off of being a writer … give me a break … 

Anyways. So there I was, about to sign up for something I had been reluctant towards doing for years. My heart was pounding and my mind wouldn’t let my body rest; going through a dozen different expectations all at once – and let me tell you: ALL WERE NEGATIVE. 

In fact, these were my exact thoughts that moment: 


The workshops will probably be rather boring and academic, held by a heavy-eyed professor with hearing-aids and poor eye-sight, located in a classroom with a whiteboard. The speeches will be all about how difficult it really is being a best-selling author (and that you really shouldn’t do it unless you’re prepared for a handful of tears, regrets, and rejections), the authors will most likely not want to talk to you (because let’s face it, when you’re finally famous and over-paid, why would you want to talk to a hopeless nobody, who’s scribbles of writing haven’t even made it to the editor yet, and most probably, never will?) The other participants will be much older, much wiser, much more published and therefore earn the right to meet the younger crowd with arrogance, rejection, and phrases like “so what does your book include – a hundred pages showing text-messages from your smartphone?”

As you can probably tell, I’m not exactly proud of my millennial-generation – without any choice in the matter, I have been automatically put into the category of inarticulate, empty-headed hipsters who, in the future, will be responsible for making the world’s population burn to the grounds and rotten in their own ashes; Also called ignorance.

So you can’t exactly blame me for being scared of talking to adults. They know things! And better yet, they know how stupid we are becoming! 



Well, let me tell you what actually happened … 

The workshops were held by fun, engaging published authors who didn’t seem to shy away from making a couple of sarcastic jokes every now and then. Not only were their words motivating, but their very presence made you feel like you weren’t alone in the everlasting fight for creative recognition. Every lecture was saturated with a handful of valuable, practical information – advice which you could only receive from those who really know the playing field, not from Google. The location was a beautiful hotel with an enormous garden – and everything was included in the package: The cute coffee-stand with free coffee and pastries, the daily gourmet lunch in the restaurant – catered by the very best chefs, the outside bookshop, covered by a tent, featuring all the best-selling authors from the states, Canada and Mexico – the public open-mic where unpublished writers would share a piece of their soul in front of an audience, the book-signings – where you could actually have a conversation with your favorite contemporary author whilst getting your book signed, the park where participants would meet, picnic, read or share their scribbled notebooks with one another. AND LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE SPEECHES – The speeches were held by authors who had flown all the way from the US or from Canada, just to inspire struggling writers with their personal stories, their highs and lows, their ten rejections and how they found their loophole through the rocky road to publishing. Most of the writers were exceptionally humorous – something that stunned me and made me think things over; WHY and HOW had I not received this information earlier?

Of course – you have to be FUNNY in order to be a successful writer! (I guess we have a lot to work on, myself and I …) 

Trust me on this – it’s not a lie – it’s not flattery – I BROKE OUT LAUGHING ABOUT 10 TIMES on average through every speech. These writers know the game; They know how to turn a vile reality into a Woody-Allen-like joke, they know how to charm and THEY KNOW how to gain the audience’s attention. (So if you’re reading this and you’re an aspiring author – LEARN HOW TO CHARM THE PUBLIC. It’s not the only way, but it’s a good way to get there.)

Oh, and the people – they were the kindest, most generous human beings.

Some DID point out my age, but it wasn’t with arrogance – they were just surprised by how young I was and that I was actually interested in going to a writer’s conference! I even had a conversation with a couple of writers from the US, got some contact-information and on top of that – I was invited to writer’s groups, poetry-cafés and more! I was in heaven! 

To sum it up, I will give you a list of a few things I learned – that I didn’t know before entering this conference:

  1. The best writers are humble people (they won’t meet you with arrogance and contempt, but rather with understanding and sympathy. They remember how hard the playing field once was for them and they would like nothing more than to show you guidance and meet you with mutual respect.) 

  1. Traditional Publishing is an expired tool (I was also sorry to hear this, but if you want to play, you have to accept the changing times. You can still do it traditionally, but it will be much harder for you to market a book properly and you won’t be able to publish your work under your own rights.) 

  2. Being a writer is not just a profession – it’s a lifestyle (If you really want to do this, do it right. If you’re a writer, you’re a living story-teller. You observe everyone and everything around you, every day. You note down random conversations in coffee-shops, you analyze people’s gestures, their weird attributes, their way of expression. You tell stories to your loved ones when you come home after work – what happened, what did you see, what did it make you feel and think? ALWAYS have a pen and paper with you-you never know when you have a good story – and remember – you’re never really out of your office. Your office is wherever YOU go.)

  3. As a writer, you have to be funny (I envy those who started off as stand-up comedians, then turned to literature. Man, they had it easy … Well, for us boring people, we have to practice! Because whether you like it or not, you have to be entertaining on the outside as well as on the inside. Fine, your book is funny as hell, but it doesn’t help if you can’t use this magic in spoken words. STOP BEING SHY. Just … STOP IT! If you are, I want you to stand up and yell out these exact words: I AM NOT SHY!! Now go out of your house and be awesome. Earn those laughs. Because you know you can. Anyone can. It’s just a matter of courage. 


Alright, better get to writing — AND watching YouTube videos of standup comedians … 

I hope you loved this article, and if you’re wondering about anything else, hit me up on my social media or email: 





Aftur S. Nerdrum 


#writersconferance #sanmigueldeallende #sanmiguel #smwc19 #2019 #writer #bookworm #howtopublish #tipsforwriting #howtowritewell #blogger

Introducing French​ culture through books, music, films, painters and more!


Oh, Paris – I am so lucky to have you, right where you are … IMG_5018.jpgIMG_4852.jpgunnamed-3.jpgunnamed.jpgunnamed-2.jpg

Who else is OBSESSED with everything French at this moment in time? 


France is a country that’s filled with culture. Sure, they do have their ups and downs when it comes to the cinema – they experiment a lot and sometimes a bit too much! 


When they do something well, it ends up being a masterpiece! Yes, I’m thinking about you Simone de Behavior, and you, Christophe Barratier, and you Edith Piaf … 

So let’s begin my list of absolute FAVOURITES in French culture, some have been recent, some have been with me all my life. I hope you get inspired! 




  1. “When things of the Spirit come First” by Simone de Beauvoir 

“When she was alone again, an immense happiness flooded into her: at last she was going to be able to show what she was made of! She opened the window and leant out over the garden: thousands of sticky little leaves twinkled in the sun and all springtime murmured in her bosom – the inner wealth accumulated in solitude was yearning to blossom into action. Ecstatically, Marcelle greeted the renewal of her heart as the dawn of the renewal of the world itself.”



2. “Les Misérables” by Victor Hugo 

“The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.”



3. “Bonjour Tristesse” by Françoise Sagan

“A Strange melancholy pervades me to which I hesitate to give the grave and beautiful name of sorrow. The idea of sorrow has always appealed to me but now I am almost ashamed of its complete egoism. I have known boredom, regret, and occasionally remorse, but never sorrow. Today it envelops me like a silken web, enervating and soft, and sets me apart from everybody else.”





  1. “The chorus” (directed by Christophe Barratier) 


Why: First of all, Christopher Barratier did a great job with this movie! The scenery, the music, the actors – everything is on its place. It’s beautifully rich with drama, forgiveness, love and the discovery of new talents. 


2. “Amélie” (directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet) 

AMELIE - American Poster by Laurent Leufroy.jpeg

Why: It’s not a lie when I say that Amélie will actually change your life for the better. She’s cute, she’s smart, she creates her own inner world and she’ll inspire you to do the same! Somehow, she makes being alone look simple and even fun – because it’s all about your attitude and what you make out of your time here on earth. Also, it’s set in beautiful, spectacular Montmartre, which is a sure stimulant for the eye! 


3. “Jean de Florette” (directed by Claude Berri) 


Why: Beautiful is too little a word to describe the scenery, the people and the story of this movie! If you wish to see a little bit more of the French country-side, watch this movie and you’ll for sure enjoy every second of it! Moreover, it’s about love, envy, hatred, revenge, family-tragedies and much more! French at it’s best … 




  1. Edith Piaf 



  • Non, je ne regrette rien
  • La foule 
  • Je ne’en connais pas la fin
  • La vie en rose 


2. Camille Saint-Saëns



  • Le Cygne 
  • Dance macabre in G Minor, Op. 40 
  • Carnival of the Animals, R. 125: VII – The Aquarium 


3. Claude Debussy



  • Clair de Lune 
  • 2 Arabesques in E Major, L. 66: Adantino 


4. Erik Satie 



  • Première Gymnopédie 
  • Gnossiennes: No. 1 – Lent 


5. Carla Bruni



  • Quelqu’n m’a dit 
  • Chanson triste 
  • L’amour 




  1. Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot


2. Jean-François Millet


3. Edgar Degas


4. Auguste Rodin 


Hope you liked my list, keep on being inspired, every day. Remember that♥




Aftur S. Nerdrum 

What Jane Austen’s New Years resolutions would sound like …


“Hmm … I wonder what one would want to fix on one’s behavior if one would want to be a more well-mannered, educated young lady with good wife-potential in 2019?” Jane asked herself in the darkest of dawns while getting her pen ready to write down a couple of notes before midnight:   

1. Complain less. You want to be the heroine, not the heroine’s best friend. 

2. Nurture your love for the home. Remember that there isn’t any better place on earth, and your papá wouldn’t like all the traveling that you constantly find yourself day-dreaming about. 

3. If not dancing, then submit all your remaining love and commitment in the pianoforte. Stick to duets and light afternoon-background music. It will charm both your life and others. 

4. Whenever you find yourself in confusion or in doubt, take a long walk. It is the second best remedy after books.

5.  Do not take carriages with people you hardly know. Stick to family. One never knows what situation one might find oneself in! 

6. Avoid any kind of romance when it comes to handsome men with sideburns – before investigating his past thoroughly. Better be safe than sorry. 

7. Take a chance on love, or take no chance at all. Better to remain single, than unhappy in a marriage. 

8. Seriously. Stop reading stories that end in tragedy for your sister, Cassandra. She’ll only grow fonder of staying in her despair. Rather, try searching for books with happy endings, and if you can’t seem to find one, write one yourself. 

9. That hero-character that you’ve been daydreaming about for years now – you know, the one who acts all proud and arrogant in the beginning, but ends up being the sweetest, most humble creature on earth – yeah that one; Make him come alive this year. Write that character down in your notebook. Who knows, it might end up becoming a novel …?

10. If you’re in search of a true lady-friend, try looking for someone who can write a long letter with delicacy and ease. 

11. Don’t focus on the time you mispronounced a word or sang a false tune in the company of refined gentlemen. Make it a rule to think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure. 

12. Do not fall into a passive rage next time you hear something about being a failed daughter or ending up an old maid. The very point of having a mother is learning to accept her flaws – and if the subject of matrimony matters as much to her as writing does to you, try to understand her next time. 

13. Not everyone’s lives are meant to be meddled with. So next time you feel like telling someone they shouldn’t marry a farmer, hold your tongue. Things aren’t always what they look like from the outside. 


With love, 

Jane Austen ...


#janeausten #janeaustennewyearsresolutions #jane #newyears #resolutions #femaleliterature #thejaneaustenclub #books #mrsknightleyslibrary