◉ 049 | Sun 5 Apr

Tomorrow,

the day before my birthday,

marks a full year

since I started

this newsletter.

To begin with,

newsletter sounds off.

It’s more like

an oldletter

as I dip heavy

into memories.

It’s Easter morning.

I watched a tutorial

on linear perspective drawing

till 2 in the morning.

At 5:50 am,

Maja smashed her hip

into my knee

and woke me up.

Couldn’t sleep

since then.

It’s 7:59 am.

I’m writing this

on paper

with a fountain pen.

Blue-black ink.

Old school

for a change.

Jakov just got up,

started throwing sweet words

at Bruno.

I need some music

to mask it

so I can stay

in the zone.

Usually,

I opt for

classical music

this early in

the morning.

This time,

I picked

D.O.D

at Club Space Miami,

Jan 16, 2026 (DJ Mix).

Rich Baby Daddy

is playing.

Jesus…

Coffee is good

at least.

Bought a kilo of Colombia

at Aldi yesterday

after having Brazil

for a while.

I switched to

Bluey: Favourite Classical Music.

“Mum!

Dad!

Bingo!

Bluey!”

Jesus…

I am a bit

fragmentary

this morning.

No wonder,

I slept for less

than four hours.

Sleep is important,

they say.

I know.

On Good Friday

we had

cooked

then roasted

octopus

with potatoes.

Today we have

roasted lamb.

Typical

Easter lunch.

And triple mousse

cake.

Maja and Jakov

made the base

last night

so it can settle

and be ready

for three more

layers.

Bluey’s playlist is too

positive at the moment.

I type Easter,

pick Easter

by the London

Symphony

Orchestra.

No. 4, Aria.

Jesus…

Next.

Itsári

by Sepultura.

Better.

I notice

a card I pulled

from the deck

weeks ago:

“Trust in the you of now”.

Another sip

of coffee.

Colombia suits

this morning.

Alex Pereira

walks out

to this Sepultura song

for his fights.

It has something

tribal

in it.

I can still hear Jakov

calling Bruno.

I have to fill

three A4 pages

and then I’ll stop.

Luka is still

sleeping.

I decide to play

the entire Roots album.

First song,

Roots Bloody Roots.

Music is not bad,

but the singing,

I mean yelling…

Jesus…

I don’t get it.

Second song,

Attitude.

Or maybe

I do.

I have

a half page more

to go.

I struggle

to come up

with more words.

Cut-Throat.

Jesus…

It’s 8:43 am.

I need to type

all of this

so you can read it.

I could take

a few photos

and ask ChatGPT

to convert

the handwriting

into ones and zeros.

I’ll type it

myself.

—

It’s 9:31 am.

Jesus.

I have to help Maja

to stuff

the lamb.