Author: Charlotte C.

  • Welcome home

    Welcome home

    Journal Welcome Home If you arrived here from Primfeed® or Second Life®, heartily welcome. Some of you have been reading my posts for months. Some of you have exchanged comments with me almost every day. A few of you have become genuine friends. Wherever we met, I am happy you found your way here. I…

  • The Uniform of Becoming

    The Uniform of Becoming

    Fashion To the beautiful Esther. “We talked about the choice of being beauty… do you remember?” There are mornings—like this one—when I stand barefoot in front of my wardrobe and feel her watching me: the woman I am still walking toward. She doesn’t rush me. She simply waits, soft and expectant, and I think of…

  • Fragments of a quiet mind

    Fragments of a quiet mind

    Journal Fragments ofa Quiet Mind I sit by the window, holding my warm glass, wrapped in a silence that feels almost sacred. The heavy glass is hot against my palms, a grounding anchor of pure presence. It is a piece of history I carry with me, a simple object taken from the Doma café in…

  • The Little Black Dress

    The Little Black Dress

    Fashion & Lifestyle The Little Black Dress An Intimate Anatomy of Desire, Craziness, and Freedom My great-grandfather’s Ford Model T was this gorgeous, stark black Beauty — that was her name — that slept in our garage for ages. Stepping inside felt like slipping into a cozy, secret little parlor. The seats were wrapped in…

  • Letters to the one I used to be

    Letters to the one I used to be

    Journal — Letters Series Letters to the OneI Used to Be I have been thinking about a famous physics experiment I heard about once. I don’t remember where. There is apparently a cat in a box in a secret lab somewhere — possibly Area 51 — that is both alive and dead until someone opens…

  • The Beauty of Becoming

    The Beauty of Becoming

    Journal The Beauty of Becoming Thoughts on softness, self-discoveryand the quiet strength of being There was a time when I believed life moved toward certainty. I imagined that one day I would understand who I was. That I would arrive at some finished version of myself and finally feel complete. Many years later, I am…