SHINE ME SOME HAPPINESS

Breathing in bright rays of light that come visiting this morning. I let them tickle my winter skin

and brighten up the quiet sadness of the endless darkness. Drinking in the golden glow in

urgent gulps, embracing every spec of glittering dust dancing in the newfound brightness.

Pushing away every thought, just be, feeling lost in the bright glow.

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camera: nikon fm2n

film: kodak portra 200

© nicole sprekelmann

QUIET WINTER DAY

Wintertime is tea time, is time to quietly sit and reflect on the year that is coming to an end. 

I am sitting at the table, candles brightening a day that never even got light. The sky is

grey and full of rain, not willing to tell all those stories hidden in it's deep clouds. The light is 

slowly fading into darkness, another winter's day has passed without snow. 

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camera: nikon fm2n

film: kodak portra 200

© nicole sprekelmann

WINTER SOUL AND CHRISTMAS THOUGHTS

Scanning negatives and drinking strong coffee, 

christmas music is softly playing. 

I just love this festive mood all around, this very

special time of year. I love waking up to the hope of snow,

sitting in bed cuddled up in warm blankets. I love all the 

twinkly lights casting a cozy glow, bringing back sweet 

childhood memories. 

.............................

camera: nikon fm2n

film: kodak portra 400

© nicole sprekelmann

A cup of cozy sunday

I wake up to a bleeping sound and the sound of raindrops against my windows. 

I had hoped to wake up to the soft silence of freshly fallen snow and a world

Caught up in magical glistening of softness all around. But i wasn't in luck this Sunday,

3rd advent. But even without the snow I was hoping for, a Sunday is a magical day.

It starts with a cup of coffee and soft music, some quiet moments spent slowly waking

up. It takes a while to focus, to wipe the sleep and strange dreams from my eyes. 

A strong coffe and some time later - minutes spent dreaming. 

I find myself thinking.

A Sunday should be made up of stolen 

seconds, minutes, hours.

Stolen from a dream, turned into some 

kind of reality of softest light, shadows and fabrics.

So I stole a second, a minute, an hour. I stole it to be with myself, 

lost in the here and now, but still far away. In that dream, 

in that soft light of this Sunday that faded away all too quickly. 

It was a Sunday of grays and tiny little rays of glistening sunshine peeking through.

A winter day filled with little tunes and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Laced with the musky

smell of old books and long forgotten words.