18/08/2026
Something came over me at the table today.
Somewhere between dripping alcohol into my little palette of mica and watching the shimmer bloom into color, I stopped being a soap maker in a farmhouse kitchen… and became Johannes Vermeer.
I felt it. That quiet, holy kind of focus. The light falling just right. The brush moving slow and sure, the whole world going silent except me and the work in front of me. Time just… disappeared. This, I thought, must be how the Old Masters felt — lost inside the making of something, chasing a beauty only they can see.
Vermeer had his linseed oil and his girl with the pearl earring. I had a paintbrush hanging out of my mouth and a row of little soap… cows. 🐄
But in that moment? I was an artist. Absorbed. Reverent. Transported.
…And then I looked up, caught my mica-smeared reflection in the window, and remembered I was painting tiny faces onto bars of soap in my kitchen. 💜
Still. Every one a masterpiece. 🎨