There's something I want to say

Maybe you sometimes wonder why my Love Letters are sometimes in German and sometimes in English.

I've wondered that, too. And the most honest answer is: I don't know exactly.

All I know is that some things need a certain sound. Some thoughts come across more gently in German. Others only really open up in English. And sometimes a sentence in French just pops into my head, without warning.

A while back, when I was reading some of my old writings, I found a poem in French mixed in with all the others. It was unexpected—and yet it fit perfectly.

I'm comfortable with several languages. Not always fluent, but emotionally.

Not everything wants to be born through the same channel. Some things come into being more like music. Or like a feeling that suddenly takes shape.

Language creates reality. And certain words open up certain spaces.

Saudade — a longing that is directed. Toward someone. Toward a place.

If that resonates with you — if something inside you responds.

Body Intelligence — the intelligence of the body that is already there.

Beingness — Be first, then do.

Trial & Sensing — try it out and see if it really works.

Inner Expansiveness — the feeling that there is more out there.

Dream Space — the place where longing finds a home.

Aftermath — a moment of pause that holds within it the next step.

That's the beauty of language: you can play with it . It opens up new perspectives. And it changes.

A lot of new things are taking shape inside me right now—like little islands that are slowly beginning to connect with one another. Sometimes through books. Sometimes through conversations. Sometimes through a sentence someone says in passing. Or through a walk in the evening sun.

My work does not arise in a vacuum. It arises from relationships—with encounters, with art, with nature, with friction, and with everything that stirs something within me.

And then something happens: My system begins to integrate. Not everything sticks. But some things really do take root.

To me, that's creativity. It's not just about creating something new—it's about bringing something genuine into being, something that has passed through you.

I think that's why some transitions feel so chaotic. Because we're often still trying to make sense of things, while deep down, something organic has long since begun to take shape—something with its own rhythm.

Perhaps we can allow ourselves to trust this rhythm a little more—even when not everything makes sense yet. Even when we’re still caught between languages—between old and new versions of ourselves—between thinking and feeling.

Because that is exactly where something new is already taking shape.

With love and words that don't yet have a name,
Jeannette