Eitt bræv til hana, sum ongin hevur spurt

Among all the deafening noise of civilization there is one frightening, icy emptiness: no one has ever asked you — what do you want?

No one is interested in what you keep silent about before sleep. No one asks whether you want to run forward right now or whether you desperately need to curl up and simply sleep. You are endlessly dictated what you should do, but no one asks the elementary, sacred question: "And how do you feel right now, dear?"

This letter is a reminder: you do not have to earn the right to breathe. Your tears are normal. Your exhaustion is sacred. Your anger has the right to come out. Allow yourself to be not perfect, but alive.