Welcome to the Sea
of Reflection

This website is a slow space for stories and thoughts that grow out of everyday life, like a cold gust of sea wind that clears the air for a brief moment.

Here you will find prose pieces from the Quill Coffer that tell of winter days, friendships, Advent lights and a quiet longing for the sea. A burning candle, falling rain or a glimpse of the water can become the starting point for tales about hope, imperfection and an inner sense of home.

The travel texts in Moment’s Echo are less about sights than about fleeting instants between salty sea wind and the crunch of snow underfoot, when places turn into inner landscapes.

In the Horizon Lens, questions like “What is truth?” or “How does rain feel on the skin?” open up spaces where reality is never fixed, but constantly reinterpreted. Shifts in perspective, art and thoughts become spaces of perception and offer small examples of how differently the world around us can be understood.

In the Silent Margin, I collect reading notes, translation experiments, analyses and small questions of writing craft, not universal recipes, but things that have helped me or that I simply find fascinating.

Part of this Sea of Reflection is also linguistic movement and a play with spaces of interpretation. Most texts appear in three languages and often first in the language in which they were written. It is not about perfect copies, but about diving more deeply into language and its meanings and, along the way, continuing to learn in all three languages.

The Sea of Reflection had its first moment of life in the summer of 2023. In December of that year, a friend advised me to promote the site on Instagram. For a while, I lost sight of my actual aim: to create a space in which something creative may arise when everyday life presses too heavily on the mind. I was supposed to post several times a week and I tried, but the rhythm exhausted me. Uploading posts and writing texts just because a schedule demands it is not my way of creating, so I eventually put both the “Meeresnebel” Instagram project and the website on ice. It is not that there is a lack of things to write about, but I am not someone who writes simply for the sake of writing. I need an impulse, a thought, an inner pull. Now I am waking both projects from their sleep again but in my own time.

My grandfather advised me early on against a creative career. For him, art was something unprofitable, nothing you could make a living from. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had ignored his advice and followed the other path that now and then opened up before me. My path, however, has become a different one. I can write on demand when I need to, but in this space I want words to have time to appear only when there is a real impulse behind them.

Anyone expecting a constantly active site may therefore be disappointed. This is a slow room. There may be months with no new text, and then several in a short time, depending on when something inside me begins to move. Texts grow out of something that happens, from an impulse, a wish, or a situation in which silence does not feel like the right answer.

These texts carry the hope that someone might wander in here and perhaps find a spark of inspiration, a hint of hope or a new perspective. I write them first and foremost for myself, but I would be glad if they could serve someone else in the same way.