Hanba sa nedá zaúčtovať
Fico môže hovoriť o drahom referende, koľko chce. Lenže 93 percent zúčastnených nie je účtovná položka, ale odkaz.
Krčná mandľa štátu
O prezidentovi, ktorý má protokol, lesk, majáky a plný diár, ale keď Slovensko potrebuje hlavu, najmä prehĺta.
Dych pred ďalšou vetou
Možno som si nemusela nájsť nový rytmus. Možno som si len konečne potrebovala priznať, že som unavená.
The Shape of a Pause
A small note about silence, distance, and what people do not see while nothing seems to be happening.
Keď nič nie je dosť dobré
O slovenskej schopnosti zameniť úsudok za kyslosť, skromnosť za brzdu a kritické myslenie za potrebu zmenšiť každého, kto sa trochu narovná.
It Was Never the Skirt
Rape survived modesty, long dresses, petticoats, church clothes, marriage vows, family reputations, and every era that pretended women could dress their way into safety.
The Quiet Violence of Being Made Less Visible
Not every erasure arrives as a ban. Sometimes it arrives as silence, lowered reach, invisible suspicion, and the slow training of a woman to soften herself.
The Songs We Loved Before We Understood Them
On streaming, inherited nostalgia, and the strange danger of beautiful surfaces
The Room I Built for My Voice
A small essay on gratitude, independence, curiosity, and why writing needs somewhere safe to stay.
The Inheritance of Mothers
On Mother’s Day, I think about my mother not only as the woman who raised me, but as a daughter shaped by daughters before her.
I Am Not Overthinking. I Am Done Under-Noticing.
Some people do not object to your thinking because it is excessive. They object because it has started connecting the moments they needed you to keep separate.
Realness Is Not a Tone. It Is a Trail.
In a culture that can imitate sincerity beautifully, I no longer trust the performance of authenticity. I trust memory, boundaries, and what remains over time.