Lisa Marie Basile

I grew up knowing my family always had its very own black cloud. Like a backyard pet that comes and goes when it pleases, a room locked but filled with things we weren’t allowed to look at or set free. And it was all passed down to me like some broken heirloom — my ancestor’s weaknesses and fears, swirled into DNA’s mad ritual. Does the body sometimes take into itself — take from its creators — what it cannot heal from? Sometimes, yes.

Hygge (pronounced hue-gah) is, according to Hygge House, “a Danish word that is a feeling or mood that comes taking genuine pleasure in making ordinary, everyday moments more meaningful, beautiful or special. Whether it’s making coffee a verb by creating a ritual of making it then lingering over a cup to a cozy evening in with friends to the simple act of lighting a candle with every meal. Hygge is being aware of a good moment whether it’s simple or special.”

Is there a certain quality to letter writing or diary keeping that inspires the confessional? I believe so.

My happiness is what undid me, ironically. I worried so much about being OK with the happiness that I fell apart.

Remember that your body is you, it is not separate. Treat it, yourself, with love. You’re a body of magic.

The sum of a city isn’t always made up of its parts.

The older we get, the harder it is to make close friends.