Every year, I choose 3 words every year to guide my intentions, goals and decisions every day. Whatever doesn’t fit these words doesn’t fit my year.

This is how I know that I am on the right track, working towards my ultimate goals for myself, my work and my relationships.
​
For 2020, my 3 words are:
quietude,
fulfillment
and
freedom.

This exercise of coming up with 3 words is an annual ritual I have cherished for almost a decade now. I recommend everyone to do this, to pick even just one word. What is essential is reflecting for a moment on what you would like your ideal year to be, and committing it to paper. Because when it is written down somewhere, I really think it's one step closer to being actualized.

​I wish to create space in my day for calm, knowing that calm fuels clarity of thought, creativity, contentment and health.

I wish to embrace simplicity, to distinguish between what is essential and that which doesn’t serve me.

I hope to remember, especially when I forget, that everything comes from within – all the healing, all the answers, all the joy.

I wish to continue my daily appreciation of my surroundings, my home, my favorite places near and far.

I strive to be present, unhurried, to challenge the notion of “urgency”, rush less and enjoy more. I hope to finally make peace with grief, resentment and pain, to not let them poison my thoughts and shatter my hope. I want to feel peace with my decisions, and to make them without fear, without feeling the torment of picking the wrong door.

I want to feel that feeling of pure happiness and lightness that can be found in small pockets of peace, and for those moments to come closer and closer together in time.

​I wish for there to be a stillness in me that can’t be rattled, a steadiness that only grows stronger with practice.

​I wish to continue feeling pride and excitement at the thought of where I am, who I am and what I do. I want to wake up rested, curious, eager and motivated to create. I want to go to bed feeling complete. In between, I wish for my days to flow with ease. I want to be creative, productive and full of momentum.

I wish to feel like a garden in full bloom, a light that infiltrates everywhere, a tide that is powerful but gentle.
​
I wish for every day to be a clear step in the direction of my dreams. I wish to have something to celebrate every single day, and to hear myself laughing loudly, no matter where I am or who I am with. 

I want to be free. Untethered. Light on my step. Grounded and anchored to what is essential, but free to float in dreams and possibilities.

I want to feel connected to pure joy and purpose, and shake off what weighs me down.
I wish for the continued freedom to make my own living, to choose my projects and my people, but also my reactions and my words. I wish to break free of cycles and patterns that no longer serve me, or which actually never have.

I wish to be free of what others might say about me, what they might think of me but not say, what they say to me but don’t mean.

I wish to be free of the grasp of Time and the nagging worry that I won’t have enough of it.
​
I wish to learn how to achieve this freedom even though life is full of high tides, steep peaks and dark shadows. 

Once again, I’ve shown you a part of my heart. Thank you for reading and for being here with me, in whatever way, wherever you are.

And since you are here, having read this far, I ask you:
What is your word for 2020? What does your ideal year look like to you?

I would love for you to let me know in the comments below, or just write it out for yourself. I promise you, it's a powerful exercise. I wish for all your wishes to come true this year, and always!

From my heart to yours,
Kristina

There’s something uniquely special about the brink of a new year. Perhaps even more so, a new decade. 

Although I have always been anxious about the passing of time, the melancholy of endings and the uncertainty of new beginnings, I am somehow filled with renewed energy, optimism and courage when the page is turned to January and when 12 months lie ahead, unwritten.

When we look back on a year, our brains seem to try to categorize it as “a good year” or “a tough one”. The truth is, it’s always both.

When I look back on 2019, it stands out as a year filled with tiny moments, incredible triumphs and interesting discoveries. 

2019 was the year I vowed to be more present and mindful, and to really prioritize my wellness. I infused my morning routine with calm and intent. I put my heart into everything I did, otherwise I didn’t accept to do it. 

I was attentive to how people, situations and decisions made me feel; if I didn’t feel well, I backed away or changed my terms.

​I took my foot off the guilt pedal, having grown tired of its toxic effect on my mood and mindset. I embodied my philosophies rather than explaining or defending them.

​I made sure to reserve my apologies for serious rather than trivial things, and not to let anyone make me lose sight of my strengths, my uniqueness and my power.

It was the year where I finally started to accept the unexpected twists in my path and to embrace them, for everything these twists have brought me and every (unnecessary) thing they have taken away. ​

​It was a year of writing, creating, and finally thriving. I poured my energy into passions and projects that were aligned with my goals and my dreams.

​I shared a new company with the world, and, within a month of its existence, I had clients lined up and full-time hours of work in the books. But what a blessing when work doesn’t feel like work – when you wake up in the morning genuinely eager to see what your brain will accomplish and how you’ll help someone with their needs. 

​It was the year I got better at visualizing the life I wanted to have and taking concrete steps to create that life. It was the year I got better at verbalizing what it is that I do for a living and no longer feeling conflicted that I don’t fit in a neat little box. ​​

​I motivated myself to wake up and witness several stunning sunrises, astonished at how negative emotions like fear and inadequacy melt away in the face of a rising sun, leaving room only for gratitude, humility and awe. 

​2019 was the year where I lived in tune with the seasons – in acceptance of those outside my window and inside my own life. I spent almost every spring and summer day outside, in the garden or by the water, and found peace in nature’s gifts. I tried, invented and reinvented tons of new recipes, which is how I know that I’m feeling peaceful and creative. 

I worked extremely hard with the Collectif Créatif to be a leader in our artistic and entrepreneurial community here in Montreal, and to help create an inclusive, diverse and inspiring series of markets with my amazing colleagues.

It was the year I finally traveled to the south of France after daydreaming about what the Côte d’Azur would look, sound and feel like. I brought you a beautiful new collection that many of you have said is your favorite so far, full of color and feeling. 

Of course, 2019 also had many heartaches among its pages. I lost my grandmother, one of my pillars of strength and faith. Although I hear her wise voice in my ears daily and am visited by her in my dreams at night, I feel the void she left and would do anything to feel her hands around mine again.

It was still a year marked by tremendous physical pain due to endometriosis and complications from scar tissue built up from all my previous surgeries, sometimes making it hard to sleep, eat, move or breathe for days in a row. It was still a year where my words about my body were bitterly unkind, where I vowed to stop bullying it and to start genuinely trusting it, but never managed to stay true to that vow.

It was the year where I poured my soul into a heartfelt piece of writing that I submitted to a national competition but did not even get close to winning. 2019 also brought its share of extremely stressful, unpredictable situations with home repairs and bureaucratic hurdles, where my legal brain had to be sharp, which can be utterly exhausting. 

​But, well, there is never a year with only perfect pictures, smooth travels, sunshine and low tides. There are tons of messy days where nothing makes sense and everything feels daunting, where we question our purpose, our faith, everyone’s motives, and our biggest dreams. 

And then comes a sunrise, on a new morning of a new year and decade, and we have this beautiful opportunity to create 2020.

As you may know, instead of choosing a new year's resolution, I always choose 3 words to guide my intentions, goals and decisions every day of the year. 

For 2020, my 3 words are:
quietude,
fulfillment
and
freedom.

In this next post, I explain why I settled on these words and what they mean to me. See you there!

From my heart to yours,
Kristina

Je n'ai pas toujours été photographe, mais j'ai toujours été une personne très observatrice de son environnement.

En tant qu'écrivaine, je suis attentive aux détails et à la manière dont nos sens déclenchent des émotions profondes. En tant que chercheuse scientifique, je suis curieuse d’apprendre comment le monde externe affecte le monde interne. En tant qu’une personne née avec la «synesthésie», une condition où le cerveau crée de manière innée des sensations de couleur en réponse au langage, au mouvement ou à la musique, j'ai une forte affinité pour les couleurs vives.

Quand j'y pense, ce sont les même 3 thèmes que je retrouve dans presque toutes mes oeuvres photographiques. Ces 3 thèmes se retrouvent, de manière évidente ou subtile, dans tout ce qui attire mon regard, tout ce qui ralentit mon pas et tout ce qui me fait sortir mon objectif pour capter le moment.

Je pense que mon amour pour la photographie est né de ma haine des fins et des adieux. La photographie est un moyen pour moi de tricher le temps, de garder le soleil au-dessus de l’horizon, de suspendre les montgolfières dans le ciel, de garder les gouttes de pluie sur la vitre, et de garder mon coeur bien rempli de ces émotions que j'avais ressenties à ce moment-là. 

Tout comme ma mère m'encourageait quand j'étais petite de "créer un souvenir" avec mes yeux quand j'étais triste de quitter un bel endroit, j'ai appris à "créer un souvenir" de ce que je vois et de ce que je ressents à travers mes mots et mes photographies.

Êtes-vous tous déjà tombés amoureux d'un lieu?

Les lieux sont magiques. Comment savons-nous avec certitude que nous devons un jour nous rendre à une destination avant même de planifier ce voyage? Comment certains endroits nous appellent-ils encore et encore, comme si nous y avions laissé une ancre? Et comment décrire ce sentiment spécial quand on y retourne et qu’on aperçoit que tout a changé – et que nous avons changé aussi – mais qu’on peut facilement retrouver ces mêmes émotions qu’on ressentait la dernière fois?

La nostalgie doit être l’une des émotions les plus complexes et les plus puissantes qu’un cœur puisse connaître. Un appel fort, la mélancolie et la gratitude pour un lieu et un moment qui ont été importants pour nous.

“Veni Etiam” est une phrase en latin qui signifie “reviens encore”. Mes oeuvres photographiques célèbrent la magie des lieux et du retour.

Avez-vous déjà prêté attention à ce qui attire votre regard? Est-il attiré par les détails ou par l’ensemble?
 
Les détails font souvent toute la différence dans une scène, une émotion ou un souvenir.
 
Observer les détails nous donne l’occasion de ralentir, d’être attentif, de ressentir, de nous rappeler.

La photographie pour moi, c'est de remarquer, de célébrer et de se souvenir non seulement du grandiose mais (surtout) du banal. 

​Quels trois mots utiliseriez-vous pour décrire la mer?

Pour moi, la Mer est infinie, puissante et variable.

La Mer m'apprend que je suis petite mais pleine d'espoir. Que cette vie a des marées, toujours cycliques et jamais permanentes, parfois douces et parfois féroces, capables de nous assommer ou de nous bercer doucement dans ses bras.
 
La Mer gonfle et se retire, inonde nos sens mais efface nos pas. Elle nous apprend à accepter que de violentes tempêtes arrivent soudainement, mais à nous réjouir quand ces tempêtes passent. Elle est ouverte mais secrète, romantique mais mélancolique, prometteuse mais impossible.

Nous pouvons la quitter mais ne jamais l'oublier.
​
Nous surfons et naviguons, amarrons, ancrons, flottons et coulons, émerveillés et captifs de ses marées, ses vents et ses humeurs. 

Que vous veniez de découvrir mon blog et ma boutique, ou que vous me suiviez depuis un moment, merci d'être ici avec moi. Merci de lire mes mots, de partager vos impressions et de vous retrouver un peu dans mes photographies.  

I have not always been a photographer, but I have always been a keen observer of the world around me.

​As a writer, I am attentive to details and how our senses trigger deep emotions. As a scientist, I am curious about how the external world impacts the internal one. As someone with “synesthesia” where the brain innately creates color sensations in response to stimuli like language, movement or music, I have an affinity for vibrant colors. 

​It was my scientific career that led me to photography. I lived abroad for my studies and research. I traveled to several international conferences every year. By practicing photography, I discovered a new form of storytelling that felt like my writing.

When I stop to think about it, there are 3 main themes that underlie my photography. These 3 themes can be found, in obvious or subtle ways, in everything that draws my eye, slows my step and makes me reach for my lens to record the moment.

I think my love for photography blossomed partly a result of my hating endings - photography is a way for me to cheat Time, to keep the sun above the horizon, to keep hot air balloons in the sky, to keep raindrops on the windowpane, and to keep my heart feeling like it did then. 

​Just like my Mom used to encourage me when I was little to "make a memory" with my eyes when I was sad about leaving a beautiful place behind, I have learned to "make a memory" of what I see - and what I feel - through words and photographs.

Has a place ever cast a spell on you?

Places are magical. How do we know deep inside us that we must visit a place long before we even make plans to get there? How do some places pull us back, again and again and again, as though we have left an anchor there? And how to describe that feeling of returning and noticing that a place has changed and we have changed, yet we can somehow feel exactly as we once felt there?

Nostalgia must be one of the most complex and powerful emotions a heart can feel. An aching pull, melancholy and gratitude for a place and a time that mattered. 

It's a feeling that has been present and familiar to me for as long as I can remember - a sort of sixth sense for me. 

“Veni Etiam” is a Latin phrase meaning “come again”. In my photographic work, I celebrate the magical pull of places and the beauty of returning to them.

Out of all the places where I have dropped an anchor, Venice exerts the strongest pull of all. Just when I think that I have photographed Venice enough, she astounds me with a thousand new angles and moods that I see for the first time despite countless returns. 

Have you ever paid attention to where your gaze goes? Is it drawn to details or to the whole?
​
Details are often what make all the difference in a scene, mood or memory. Observing details affords us an opportunity to slow down, to feel something, to remember.

​Photography for me is about noticing, celebrating and remembering not only the grandiose but (especially) the mundane. 

What 3 words would you use to describe the Sea?

The Sea teaches me that I am small, but hopeful. That life has tides, always cyclical and never permanent, sometimes gentle and sometimes fierce, capable of knocking us down or cradling us in its arms. The Sea swells and recedes, floods our senses but erases our footsteps. She teaches us to accept that storms come, but to rejoice that they also do pass. She is wide open yet secretive, romantic yet melancholy, promising yet impossible. We can leave her but never forget her. We surf and float and dock and anchor and sail and sink, in her captive wonder, in the grasp of her tides, winds and motives. ​

Whether you've just discovered my blog and shop, or you've been following me for a while, thank you for being here with me. Thank you for reading my words, for responding to my photographs and, sometimes, for finding a part of yourself in my observations. 

From my heart to yours,
Kristina

So you've planned your next trip and chosen a destination that calls to you! 

Here are 8 quick travel tips to make it a smooth and enjoyable trip that you'll remember long after you return home. 

Often, the best discoveries are those made when you least expect it (certainly not while you're rushing or stressed).

​It's such a great feeling to skip a massive line!

You'll learn more about local life if you shop and prepare your food rather than always eating out. You'll save some money too!

​If you should ever lose your documents, having a copy can speed up replacing them, especially since we tend not to know our card numbers or other info by heart.

​In case one pair gives your feet a hard time. Painful feet can be a real nuisance when traveling. Love your feet because they take you places!

If your battery dies and you don't have access to a charger on the go, these inexpensive packs can save you and get you to the end of your day.  

​Remember that a place is not your personal playground. Respect the locals, nature, architecture, language, culture and any rules of the place you're visiting. 

I have always loved taking long exploratory walks around urban neighborhoods, no matter whether I have traveled to a faraway place or I am happily acting like a tourist in my own city. I don't necessarily always plan to collect photos, but they seem to be inevitable. The simple act of moving, observing and being in the moment fuels my creativity.

Knowing this, I have gotten into the habit of scheduling a seasonal "staycation" -- a mini vacation (sometimes just a day or two, sometimes a whole week) in my own city of Montreal, where I devote time to exploring different areas and appreciating how they change with the seasons. 

In the mood to stretch my legs and to spend a little time outdoors with my camera, I signed up for one of the Photowalk Montreal group itineraries, organized by graphic artist and photographer Elodie Le Pape.

Every month or so, a new itinerary is proposed to explore a different facet of Montreal. Essentially, you meet up with a group of people on a Saturday and take a leisurely 2-hour walk together, snapping photos of whatever inspires you.

When I met up with about 24 strangers at metro Mont-Royal for that day's "Colors of the Plateau and Village" itinerary, I felt a bit outside my comfort zone. For me, photography is usually a solitary act. It is how I unwind, how I practice mindfulness, how I pay attention to my posture, and how I reflect on my way of seeing and feeling things in this world. When I travel, I usually carve out time to walk around with my camera on my own. If I'm in a group, I make mental notes of where to return to when I have more time to observe and experiment. Being such a solo photographer, I had no idea how it would feel for me to be part of a large group of photography-lovers. Would I keep the pace and find inspiration without feeling pressured? Would there be a lot of discussion and comparison? Would be end up with extremely similar photos?

What I quickly noticed when we set out on our photowalk was that the atmosphere was pleasantly informal and relaxed, such that you could make the experience whatever you wanted it to be. For this group, it doesn't matter if you're a beginner or an expert, if you have a cell phone or fancy gear, or if you simply feel like going for a stroll (thus totally ditching the "photo" part of a "photowalk"). You can take your time (as long as you don't lose the group), and be as talkative or as quietly focused as you wish. ​If city photography is not your thing, you are totally free to take portrait photos with a buddy, while scouting out interesting backdrops for future photoshoots. 

I admit that it was still an odd sight to watch 25 people silently fill a narrow street and spread out into different directions like ants infiltrating a space! Some photographers were much more assertive than I was, climbing residents' staircases for better views, getting really up close and personal with their subjects. 

I stayed true to my usual style -- looking for unique compositions and details that highlight colors, textures and that celebrate the ordinary. I appreciated that there was room for every type of photographer, and that the photos would reflect our individual styles, in the end.

The highlight of the photowalk was to discover a couple of charming streets that I had not yet explored. I was so glad to have done something outside of my creative comfort zone. It was a refreshing exercise to try something new but to still find my unique perspective and style within that new experience. 

Since the photowalk, I have enjoyed a few leisurely walks on the Plateau, Little Italy and around the Parc Olympique, taking in the miracles of spring. It always astonishes me how a little bit of time outside, away from my screen and phone, can refresh my mind and spirit. (Though, between you and me, it can be a little overwhelming to come home to hundreds of new images to sort and process!) 

I am often asked for advice for beginner photographers, and I almost always say this: take long walks and practice. Whether you join an organized photowalk for a structured itinerary, or you just weave in and out of streets on a whim, you are sure to find inspiration if you are open to it. Once something makes you slow your step, capture it in different ways -- different angles and compositions will tell a different story, and different camera settings will teach you about light. Finally, always look with your eyes first. Especially when the goal of the walk is to take pictures, it's easy to become a hurried collector and snap, snap, snap. Slow down, relax your shoulders, look at the scene and pay attention to how it makes you feel. What draws your eye naturally? Try to recreate that with your lens.

But, most of all: have fun. No matter how your photos turn out, at least you've taken a nice walk through town!

Imagine creating a home for yourself and your family that feels cozy, stylish and representative of your tastes, without breaking the bank.

Imagine feeling that interior design does not have to be a daunting task, and that a beautiful space can be achieved with a few creative ideas, helpful tips and tricks, and original finds from independent businesses. 

That is precisely what Kat Mannell offers us with her inspiring interior design blog and Instagram account "Life at Number 63". 

Based in the UK, Kat left her job as an interior design assistant for the affluent and decided to show home enthusiasts that it is unnecessary to spend endless amounts on designer labels and bespoke items to create a perfect home. She is also a passionate advocate for small businesses and handmade items. 

​Kat thoughtfully renovated her Victorian home to create a stylish Scandinavian-inspired interior on a budget. Only 18 months after the start of her journey, her audience has grown to almost 60 thousand followers, with whom she shares her unique finds, favorite brands, inspiring color schemes, interior trends and design tricks. ​

What is special about "Life at Number 63" on Instagram is that Kat takes us through her space at least twice a day, showing us different angles and different ways of styling the rooms. In fact, Kat proves that a decor need not be set in stone! Kat embraces change at home, switching the color scheme and decor frequently. 

"I live in the moment, and if I feel like a room or part of a room isn't making me happy anymore, then I change it. I like to shop my home as well as buying new things, as even moving around furniture or accessories can make an area feel fresh."

Her two little girls Ruby and Molly also embrace a changing decor like their Mum.

"They are used to it! I think that, since we have lived in the same house all their lives, they are very settled children, and so a few colour changes or new items don't daunt them at all."

Kat describes her home style as "scandi, hygge and botanical".

​She loves clean lines, soft pinks and Scandinavian-inspired furniture and accessories.

There isn't a spot of the house that is hidden from our view - we can admire every corner, and sometimes Kat takes us on a tour of the layout in her Instagram Stories.

"It's not a large house, but I try to be creative with my shots, and actually photograph every angle and corner possible!"

Her personal favorite spot at home is simply her side of the bed. "I layer it up with blankets, turn my air diffuser and string lights on and curl up with a book and a cup of tea. Bliss!"

Other than showcasing her own space and guiding others in their home decor projects with her helpful blog articles, Kat also hosts an Instagram challenge she created under the hashtag "#spotthenewtrend", with prizes to be won. "I base the theme on current and future trends, and people use the hashtag on their posts containing that theme, and I share their posts on my stories. There are now over 18000 posts to the hashtag, which I'm thrilled with!"

Kat shares her surprise about the online community she has discovered. "There are so many people whose home is a huge part of their lives, and who want to make a cozy, inviting space to share with friends and family".

Aside from her work as an interior blogger and influencer, Kat is also the owner of the online shop Art House Illustration, where she sells her custom house portraits as prints.

When we talked about how she juggles her numerous projects, passions, collaborations and parenting, Kat confessed that keeping up with it all can sometimes be a challenge. "I have to be organized (which isn't my strong suit if I'm honest). I make a list of things to do at the start of the week, even down to small details and then work my way through them. If it all stays in my head, then sometimes I can feel a little stressed. List making is definitely key!" 

Although Kat is grateful for the huge community support she surprisingly experienced, she attributes her success to her persistence in following her dream. "Just believe in yourself and go for it," she advises fellow bloggers and entrepreneurs. "I really wanted Instagram and my blog to succeed, and I have put in many hours and late nights, which has often been exhausting, but it's always worth it in the end." 

Follow Kat over on "Life at Number 63" on her blog and Instagram to discover her home and her affordable tips and tricks to creating a unique home you adore!

​
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SyneWHAT?

Synesthesia.

Don't worry, it's not contagious. And it's actually pretty cool. 

Since I was a little girl, I’ve been aware of the fact that every word I read or hear is colored. To be more precise, every letter and every number has its “own color”. I see these so vividly and automatically in my mind, without any effort or control, that I used to think it was a common experience shared by everyone.

It wasn’t until a Neuroscience class during the first semester of my Master’s in my twenties that I finally learned that my color perception was not common, and that it was called "synesthesia". I approached the Professor after class and he enthusiastically asked whether I would take a battery of tests, since he conducts research on the neurobiological basis of synesthesia. Suddenly, I found myself in a tiny windowless Italian office for two hours, answering detailed questionnaires and assigning all letters, numbers and days of the week a precise shade of color using the color wheel in PowerPoint, until it was confirmed that I indeed have a very strong and consistent form of synesthesia.

​I felt strangely giddy. 

The type of synesthesia I experience is called "grapheme-color synesthesia".

The colors I see in response to letters, numbers, whole words, and other symbols are very precise. For example, "D", "J" and "P" are all green, but they differ in their shades. Similarly, "C" is mustard yellow, whereas "I" is a brighter, sunshine yellow. I see these colors in my mind, although I can project them onto a page or a wall if I think of them. The first letter of a word determines the color for the whole word, and it is based on the orthography, not the sound it makes. For example, the words "cat" and "catastrophe" are both the same mustard yellow color, and the words "photography" and "psychology" are both the same clover green. On the other hand, "site" is dark red, contrary to "cite" which is mustard yellow, even though they share the same sound. 

Proper names follow the same colors as common words, but for some reason, days of the week and months of the year have some kind of special status. "Monday" is greyish white, even though the letter M is a midnight blue. "February" is a dark pinkish coral, although the letter F is usually dark purple. 

Numbers, unlike words which have one main color, are colored according to their individual digits. For example, 27 is not just one color, but is made up of a yellowish-orange 2 and a reddish-brown 7. Punctuation marks and other symbols also have their own colors, but they are somehow less salient than letters or numbers. 

These experiences are vivid whether I read text or hear language. ​When I see font colors that are incongruent with my "own colors", it is a tremendously unsettling experience! I genuinely have trouble focusing on colored font or on objects like alphabet toys when the colors differ from the ones I instinctively see!

My color perceptions in response to language occur not only in my most dominant language (English), but also in any additional languages I have learned, whether I've learned them during early childhood or adulthood. 

The colors tend to be consistent when the orthography is consistent (French, Italian, Spanish, German, Dutch), but different when the script is non-alphabetic (Armenian). 

I have noticed that my color perceptions are weaker when my proficiency is weaker in a language. For example, as I have less exposure to Armenian script in adulthood than I did in childhood, I have noticed that the color perception of some letters is much less salient than other letters I am more familiar with and can recognize more easily. 

On the other hand, scripts I can decipher only in part (Greek) only have some colored letters, whereas scripts I cannot decipher at all (Russian) are not colored at all. 

Although letters and words typically share the same color associations across my languages, some symbols do not. Quotation marks, for example, are red in English (” “), blue in French («, ») but yellow in German („“). 

There are a few exceptions where the semantic meaning of the word influences its color. For example, "acqua" in Italian or "agua" in Spanish are both blueish white, even though the letter A is dark red. 

The word “blue” is actually blue, rather than being brownish-orange like the letter B. Oddly enough, though, the word “green” is brownish-red and not green, so I have no idea what makes the meaning prevail in some cases but not in others!​

In addition to seeing colors in response to orthographic symbols, there are a number of other “odd” spatial experiences linked to my form of synesthesia.

When people speak, I see words and sentences running through my mind like subtitles.

Days of the week are organized in a specific way (from left to right), as are months of the year (from top to bottom). 

Research has shown that these kinds of spatial features seem to be a rather consistent experience among synesthetes. 

Over the years, I've grown quite attached to my synesthesia. If I am extremely fatigued, ill or waking up from surgery, I immediately "check" if my synesthesia is still instinctive and strong, for fear of losing it. I love this aspect of my brain and my sensory experience, despite some of the quirks associated with it. 

On the upside, I am quick at spotting typos or mistakes, as well as items on a list because my brain kind of sorts by color as my eyes flit over the writing. 

I have a strong visual, photographic memory -- a correlation that has often been reported in individuals with synesthesia. It can help me recall things, like names or phone numbers, because I tend to feel its color. For example, I know my doctor's office is on the 2nd floor because the number is yellow. 

However, synesthesia can also interfere with my memory. I often confuse numbers or names because of their similar color. For example, I always think that the metro station Vendôme in Montreal is on the green line instead of the orange line, because words beginning with V are green. I experience the "tip of the tongue" phenomenon quite a lot when trying to remember someone's name and only being able to see its color in my mind. 

Other disadvantages to synesthesia have been reported in the scientific literature. Like other synesthetes have reported, I have odd difficulties in basic sense of direction (unless I see a map, which becomes imprinted in my photographic memory), basic arithmetic and left-right issues (I often have to consciously think about what is "left" and what is "right"). 

Although I had no idea that this was a special neurological trait until my early twenties, my earliest recollection of my color experiences is from around the time I started daycare and kindergarten. I remember playing with magnetic alphabet letters and feeling that "A" was indeed a very red letter. I also remember the French alphabet cards that my Grade 1 teacher had posted above the blackboard, and that the word île (island) was “a very yellow word”.

Another very strong early memory comes from playing the board-game "Life" with my sister. I would spin the wheel and feel unsettled that the number 6 was yellow instead of olive green, and that the number 1 definitely should have been reddish-brown instead of blue.

I didn’t vocalize any of this until sometime in high school when I was shopping for notebooks and school supplies, and I finally told my mom that I needed a green notebook for Physics (“because Physics is a green subject!”) and a blue notebook for Math. I honestly thought she knew exactly what I meant — well, because Moms know everything — but it turns out she had absolutely no clue and I was totally alone in this experience.

I have since then tried to convince her that she and my grandmother must also have SOME form of synesthesia because research into the genetics of synesthesia has revealed that it is indeed hereditary. But alas, I am the only one in my family with this "strange" experience that I'm consistently (but lovingly?) called a "weirdo" over. 

Jokes aside, though, I am thankful that I have never felt that my experiences were not valid, nor have I ever felt alienated or ridiculed over them. 

My color-grapheme synesthesia is the first form of synesthesia that I noticed growing up, because it is so visual and salient. However, I also have other more discrete forms of synesthesia.

"Hearing-motion synesthesia" is when witnessing movement causes an auditory perception. At preschool age, I first noticed that I could hear sounds when watching the TV on mute. I would have the 6 o'clock news on mute while playing with my toys, and I remember "hearing" the frequency of the news anchors' voices based on the movement of their lips, as well as the sounds of their hand gestures and their stacks of paper on their desks. 

I seem to "hear" all kinds of movement - gestures, an object cutting through space or other silent bursts of visual stimuli. 

I also have a mild case of "mirror touch synesthesia" where I experience a sensation in a part of my body when I watch someone else experience a sensation in that body part. 
If I watch a scene of someone burning their hand, I feel the sensation in my own hand. It can get quite disconcerting, but I always describe it as a heightened sense of empathy!

Lastly, I've noticed that I tend to personify objects and feel as though they have personalities. Again, it's not as salient as my main form of color synesthesia. I can sometimes find myself taking a plate from the kitchen cupboard and upon thinking for a minute, replacing it with another, because it didn't "feel" right.

Although the occurrence of synesthesia has been reported for over a century, it was long treated as a subjective experience unworthy of scientific investigation. Recently, however, a growing body of research has begun to investigate the cognitive and neural bases of synesthesia and has demonstrated that these experiences are real and verifiable. It has been claimed that synesthesia arises from neuro-developmental differences in the maturation of the brain, which give rise to atypical connections between different brain regions that would not normally interact.

In grapheme-color synesthesia, it seems that the brain areas involved in color processing and in the identification of letters and numbers are connected or “cross-activated”.

Brain imaging studies have revealed significant differences between the brains of synesthetes and non-synesthetes in the way they respond to linguistic stimuli such as graphemes and phonemes (written symbols and sounds). For grapheme-color synesthetes, letters and words have been shown to elicit activation in the brain regions actually involved in processing color, whereas this enhanced activation was not found in non-synesthetes, nor for stimuli that do not typically induce internal color experiences in these individuals. In addition to activating early visual areas responsible for the perception of color, synesthetes also activated “higher-order” brain areas responsible for the cross-modal integration of language and visual form.

The study of synesthesia is now seen as a window into perception, cognition and language, and the connection between them.

Living in a world of constant color stimulation for as long as I can remember, it's no wonder that I adore vibrant colors and have a slight aversion to white! 

Synesthesia is a unique neurological and psychological experience. Feel free to leave a comment below and ask me anything you'd like to know about it. I'll answer about my own experience or point you towards resources where you could learn more. 

From my heart to yours,
Kristina

I’ve always been a dreamer.

Being a dreamer doesn’t only mean having lofty goals for yourself that are beautifully out of reach (until, somehow, they are not).
​
Being a dreamer also means you often reflect on your life. On who you are, on what fills you with joy (or doesn’t), on how far you have come, and on what you deeply wish for yourself. Those wishes can be tangible or idealistic, for the near future or way down the line. But every dreamer has those wishes. 

If you have been following me for some time, you know that I usually start the year with a reflection. I look back in order to look forward, and I choose 3 words as the main “themes” or intentions to guide my new year. These words are thoughtfully conjured up as a culmination of what I loved and disliked about the previous year.
​
​​Why 3? Because I have a thing for trilogies.

​I am as strategic as I am intuitive in this process. You can read my summary of 2018 in this post and get your hands on this free workbook that walks you through this process of reflecting so you can arrive at your own 3 words for the year.

If I can align myself with these deep wishes in my daily actions and reactions, I will get closer to my goals and my dreams – as an individual, as a professional, as an entrepreneur, as an artist. It’s not easy, but growth never stems from what is easy!

For 2019, my 3 words are PRESENCE, EASE and TRUST.

​Presence has been a work in progress since 2017. As an entrepreneur and someone with multiple competing projects and passions, I find it TOO easy to get caught up in the hustle, competition and over-stimulation that characterizes the current world around us.
Suddenly, meals get gobbled, breaths are held, social media dictates our self-worth, mornings hurriedly turn to night, seasons dissolve into one another, and we wonder where it all went and what it all means.

It has been a powerful realization for me just how much a mindful, grateful and present mindset benefit my creativity, my photography, my business growth, my income, my collaborations, my health and my inner peace.

In 2019, I wish to continue doing those activities which ground me. Those activities which emphasize observation, introspection and connection with the world around me. Journalling, gardening, practicing deep breathing, taking walks, cooking and slowly savoring new recipes, spending time away from devices or social media, seeing my osteopath regularly, and of course, practicing photography just for the FUN of noticing and being in the moment.

I wish to let go a little bit of that sense of urgency that guides many of my actions. It’s what fuels my productivity and my ideas, but it also often costs me a sense of calm.

Don’t get me wrong: By “ease”, I don’t mean taking the path of least resistance.
Or maybe I do?

It is actually about not wanting to create or attract resistance. It’s NOT about taking the easy way out. I will continue to take risks, be bold in my decisions and to chase my dreams far outside of my comfort zone – because that is who I am.

But I wish for good things to flow abundantly, and for pieces to fall into place seemingly effortlessly (although we all know that nothing is truly effortless).

In 2018, my faith and forgiveness in "life” crumbled under the weight of grief.

I hope that I can rebuild my trust in life’s journey in 2019.

“What is for you will not pass you.” That quote is on a bracelet my sister gave me for Christmas. And what a beautiful motto to guide me this year, to take some weight off my shoulders and to reduce some resistance in my own reactions to circumstances.
​
I hope to trust more in the story, in its plot twists, characters and message. 

​Presence. Ease. Trust. What doesn’t fit these themes, doesn’t fit my year. ​

I wish for you to know what you wish for, and to chase it with all your might! In 2019 and always. 
​
From my heart to yours,
Kristina

The end of the year always brings about a desire to reflect on the last twelve months - to recap its ups and downs, triumphs and challenges, to extract the most meaningful
experiences and ponder what we have learned. We can't help but feel hopeful,
optimistic, though possibly a little daunted when turning the page from one year to
the next, a blank slate ahead of us, waiting to be written.
 
Over the last two years, I have developed and used these reflection prompts to help me verbalize my insights, wishes and goals both with respect to my business but also my personal life. When I do this exercise, I am always amazed at how it reduces my anxiety, grounds my perspective, centers me with my main priorities and boosts my confidence in my abilities and my decisions.

​It helps me distill what I want to do less of, more of, and what I want to maintain in the new year. It gives me a roadmap to follow during the year when I want to focus or reassess my strategies. It allows me to celebrate my growth and my purpose.
 
Without further ado, I invite you to sign up to receive this tool in your inbox, with the hope that you can use the exercises or tweak them to reflect on YOUR life or business.

This free workbook is for you if:

• You're not sure where to start when it comes to setting intentions for the new year for your business or personal life
• You could use a structured exercise with reflection prompts to help you look back or plan ahead 
• You could use help figuring out the priorities and goals most important to you
• You would like to reflect on how you have changed and what you have learned
• You would like to create a set of intentions that will guide all your decisions

Vous me connaissez maintenant : de temps en temps, je vide mon coeur sur une page. 

En fait, je le fais assez souvent. Mais, de temps en temps, je vous permets de le lire!

Pendant le temps des fêtes, je suis souvent en mode réflexion. Je pense à l'année derrière moi - à mes réussites, ces défis inattendus, ma croissance personnelle et la croissance de mon entreprise. C'est en réfléchissant sur les 12 derniers mois que je peux aborder la nouvelle année avec motivation et intention. Je partage mes stratégies de réfléction et de planification dans ce document gratuit que vous pouvez télécharger, mais pour l'instant ce que j'aimerais partager avec vous est un résumé sincère et vulnérable de mon année 2018.

Cette fois, dans ce billet de blog, je laisse mes mots au premier plan. Mes photos n'apparaissent qu'à la fin de l'article. C'est un peu comme une lettre personnelle pour vous.

Lorsque 2018 a commencé, mes 3 thèmes pour l'année était: rêves, équilibre, magnétisme. Je voulais avoir plus de temps et de confiance dans mes rêves, de faire et d'être ce que je voulais faire et être au fond de moi. Je voulais apprendre à mieux respirer, à écouter plus attentivement mon corps et à trouver ma paix avec mon parcours et mes décisions. 

Ce fut une année avec quelques gros chapitres significatifs plutôt que cent chapitres plus courts.

Ce fut l'année où j'ai consacré plus d'énergie et de passion que jamais à la croissance de mon entreprise. L'année où j'ai appris à laisser de côté ces expériences qui faisaient pencher la balance trop loin vers la négativité et l'épuisement émotionnelle. L'année où je n'ai pas eu peur de penser et de dire à haute-voix: «Non, désolée, cela ne me convient pas.» L'année où j'ai cessé de justifier mes choix auprès de ceux qui ne pouvaient pas assez modifier leur point de vue pour chercher à me comprendre. 

C'était l'année de 52 articles de blog publiés, de 25 marchés ou expositions auxquelles j'ai participé avec mon entreprise, de 5 marchés que j'ai organisées avec notre incroyable équipe Etsy Montréal et également l'année où mon 13e manuscrit scientifique a été soumis pour publication.

Mais, puisque nous comptons ...... c’était aussi l’année de ma 2e chirurgie abdominale majeure en moins de 2 ans, plus de 25 scans ou IRM subis par mon corps et… un événement que je ne parviens jamais à décrire en partie à cause de mes propres tabous personnels et en partie parce que cela me déchire le coeur, ce fut l'année d'une 3ème fausse couche - celle-ci étant moins ambiguë, plus triste et plus conséquente que les précédentes. 

Ce fut aussi une année de nombreuses premières. Cette année, j'ai rédigé de A à Z mon tout premier livre. C'est l'année où j'ai mis en mots pour la première fois comment l'endométriose sévère et des problèmes ovariens ont affecté ma vie et ma carrière. C'était la toute première année pour mon organisation de santé nommée "Alba", un projet qui a pour but d'aider d'autres femmes et familles atteintes à travers le partage de témoignages, d'oeuvres d'art et de fonds collectés pour la recherche. Ce fut aussi la première année où j'ai offert aurant de séances portraits ou des photoshoots d'événements, la première fois où je suis passée à la télé, mon premier voyage aux Maritimes, ma première présentation à un congrès sur la santé de la femme ainsi que la première fois où j'ai conçu moi-même le design d'un gros kiosque pour une exposition. Plusieurs de ces premières expériences étaient loin en dehors de ma zone de confort. L'anxiété, des "pep-talks" avec moi-même et beaucoup de préparation ont fait de ces événements un succès qui méritait d'être célébré à chaque fois.  

Ce fut une année où j'ai trouvé ma raison d'être, où j'ai perdu ma foi, où j'ai retrouvé ma volonté de continuer à avancer dans la direction des rêves qui me faisaient vibrer. 

Je me sens à la fois épuisée et rechargée en ce début de janvier 2019, mais je suis surtout curieuse de voir comment cette année se déroulera. Quels tests et quels triomphes me portera 2019 entre ses pages? Chaque rebondissement a fait de moi un personnage plus complexe et une histoire plus complexe à raconter. En effet, je suis heureuse de raconter cette histoire plus en détail dans une version révisée de mon livre plus tard cette année. 

Ce qui est important, et voilà ce qui vous concerne: je suis tellement réconfortée et émue par l’idée que vous soyez ici avec moi. J'adore partager avec vous ce que je vois, ce que je ressens, où je vais, comment je vis, ce que je collectionne et ce dont je rêve. Mon travail est alimenté par la nostalgie, l'inspiration, les récits mais aussi par VOUS tous. J'adore vous aider à trouver des éléments de décoration qui vous inspirent, jaser avec vous de voyages et de photographie, recevoir votre feedback touchant. Vous ne savez pas comment cela alimente ma passion, ma créativité et mes activités quotidiennes.

Merci de lire, de me suivre, de magasiner et de partager. Merci de laisser des commentaires de temps en temps; j'aime ça savoir que vous êtes de l'autre côté de l'écran!

De mon coeur au vôtre,
Kristina

Et maintenant, OUI, quelques photos!

​Depuis combien de temps me suivez-vous? Laissez-moi un commentaire ci-dessous!

You know me by now: Now and then, I spill my heart onto the page. 

Well, I do so quite often actually. But, now and then, I actually let you read it!

I have been in reflection mode as I always am during the holidays, looking back on my accomplishments, unexpected plot twists and personal growth of the last 12 months, so that I can dive into 2019 with intention and excitement. I share my step-by-step process of reflection and intention with you in this free download, but what I want to share with you now in this blog post is a heartfelt summary of my past year.

​This time, I'm putting my words in full focus, and the photographs appear at the end of the post. Consider this a personal letter to you. 

When 2018 began, my three wishes for the year were dreams, balance and magnetism. I wanted to have more time, conviction and confidence to DO and BE what truly excited me. I wanted to learn to breathe better, to listen more attentively to my body, and to get better at making peace with my path and my decisions.
​
It felt like a year with a few BIG chapters rather than a hundred smaller ones.

It was the year where I poured more energy and passion than ever into my growing business. The year where I learned to properly let go of experiences that tipped the scale too far towards resentment and negativity. The year where I wasn’t afraid of thinking and saying “No, sorry, that doesn’t work for me”, instead of complaining in secret. The year where I stopped justifying my choices to those who couldn’t bend their perspective enough to understand them.

​It was the year of 52 blog posts published, 25 shows I participated in with my shop, 5 shows I co-organized with our amazing Etsy Montreal team and my 13th scientific manuscript submitted for publication.

But, since we’re counting...... it was also the year of my 2nd major abdominal surgery within 2 years, over 25 scans or MRIs and … something I still can’t manage to put into words partly because of my own taboos and partly because it hurts so very deeply, a 3rd miscarriage – this one more devastating and consequential than those more ambiguous, earlier losses of pregnancy.

It was also a year of many firsts. This year, I wrote my first book cover to cover. It was the first time I ever put into writing how endometriosis and ovarian failure has affected my life and my career path. It was the first year for my newly founded health organization Alba, which truthfully causes me mild anxiety but huge excitement at the same time. It was the first year I booked so many portrait / event photoshoots, the first time I appeared on TV, the first time I traveled to maritime Canada, the first time I presented a project at a health conference, and the first time I designed a large booth for an art exhibition. Many of these firsts were so far outside of my comfort zone, it took quite some pep talks to myself and preparation to achieve these milestones!

It was a year of finding my truth, losing my faith, and finding my will to keep moving in the direction of my dreams.

I feel both exhausted and refreshed at the start of this year, but mostly I am curious to see how it will unfold – what tests and triumphs it will carry between its pages. Each plot twist has made me a more complex character, and has made a more complex story to tell. Having come to terms with this, I'm excited to tell this story more fully in a revised version of my book later this year. 
​
Importantly, and this is where YOU come in: I am so comforted and so deeply thrilled by the idea of you being here with me. I love sharing with you what I see, what I feel, where I go, how I live, what I collect and what I dream of. My work is fueled by nostalgia, inspiration, stories but also by YOU. Helping you find decor pieces that inspire you, talking about places or photography with you, getting your heartwarming feedback in response to my work. You have no idea how this fuels my passion, my creativity and my day-to-day activities.

Thank you for reading, for following, for shopping and for sharing. Please remember to leave me comments now and then. I love to connect with you and to know that you’re on the other side of the screen.

From my heart to yours,
​Kristina

And now, yes, some pictures!

How long have you been following me for? Leave me a comment below to say hello!

This fall, I vowed to go on weekly photo-walks through Montreal neighborhoods to really take in the fiery colors before they faded into a long, unrelenting winter. Despite a very busy schedule, pushing myself to take my camera out for a walk helped renew my energy, creativity and courage (because many of my projects are in uncharted territories for me right now!)

The residential streets in the Plateau Mont-Royal and Hochelaga-Maisonneuve neighborhoods held beautiful treasures, no matter how grey a day it was. 

I never tire of our walk-up staircases, contrasts between adjacent homes, how nature and wrought-iron get tangled into one, and the secret universes tucked away in back alleys. 

On the day I chose to visit Parc Lafontaine, the sun created a symphony of color. The squirrels and ducks seemed lighthearted, basking in light and tapestries of fallen leaves. The main aisle coming in from the entrance on Rachel Street (corner Calixa Lavallée) was almost regal. A quiet weekday mid-morning, only my footsteps could be heard crashing through the ankle-deep row of leaves. Squirrels were pouncing and diving from benches all around me, playful and friendly. Leaves were falling all around me, getting caught in my long hair or on the sleeves of my wooly sweater. It was magical, and before I knew it, I had spent three hours in the park. 

I also took some time to stroll through the campus of my alma mater McGill University. If you step off the main paths, you'll find little pockets of color and peace to read, think or - in my case - take pictures. 

These are just a few of the picturesque corners of Montreal in autumn. Our city boasts a ton of charming areas and cozy cafes to discover. Making it a habit to take a short walk and to notice the beauty of this season does the mind and body good. 

Do you like to take walks in the fall? What is your favorite corner in Montreal?

From my heart to yours.

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If you have followed my photography for a while, you know that architecture is one of the main themes that draw my eye. 

Despite my strong penchant for vibrant color, there is something powerful about architectural photographs in black and white. Doing away with color somehow enhances patterns, textures and moods. 

Here are some of my favorite architecture snapshots, from Montreal and my travels.

The practice of photography can sometimes be a true exercise of patience.

Of course, in some cases, one has to be very quick to capture a candid pose, a fleeting moment or an action in real-time. A lot of the time, though, a carefully composed photograph requires waiting for the elements you imagined to come together, or crowds to disperse. The scene is there, in front of you and in your mind, but you have to carve it out and freeze it just the way you want it to look in the photograph. 

And for someone whose strongest suit isn't patience (ahem! hi!), this can be a therapeutic exercise! 

La Cubana (Havana, Cuba). I took 18 variations of this composition. The first couple were just of the empty square. My eye is always drawn to architectural details, so that scene was interesting enough for me. The repetition of doorways, the lintels and columns, the rough texture of the decaying walls, the contrasting colors of the painted doors and fresh laundry, the broken balustrade revealing a touch of sky. 

But then, she appeared. From the tip of the square, she caught my eye. Her hat, her off-the-shoulders top, the way her skirt swayed when she walked, her assured step, her shadow cast by the beating midday sun... Her presence anchored the eye, and tied together the whole scene. My shutter followed her across the square, until I settled on this variation. A sense of movement, frozen, hanging, like those of the linens. A sense of character, like that of the aging building. 

It may have taken over a quarter of an hour, standing there, repeating the procedure over and over again, to finally capture La Cubana. 

Alfama (Lisboa, Portugal). Darkened cobblestones and metal tracks, against the pale church façade and the summer sky. The way the tram lines overhead and the tracks on the pavement gracefully curved around the corner, out of sight. The texture of the crumbling paint on the houses. The elegant details of the wrought iron balconies, lampposts and junctions in the tram lines. "Wouldn't it be lovely if a tram came down this way right now?" Well, "right now" may have been a dozen or two dozen minutes later. But, I waited. I studied the light, memorized the composition I wanted. And waited. I can remember my excitement (and relief) when the narrow lane livened up with the sound of its arrival. It was worth it, in the end.

The Perfect Sea (Corfu town, Corfu). It is already a feat to photograph a place when you've only just arrived - jet-lagged, still only beginning to unwind during those first few hours of your long-anticipated European holiday. But when throngs of visitors crowd the scene that you know has a near-perfect symmetry begging to be photographed, it takes some extra willpower to pause, centered, elbows in the air, waiting for every last person and their shadow to clear the frame. 

Tramonto veneziano (Venice, Italy). When I am in my beloved Venice, I make sure that I have time. Time to walk, time to watch, time to feel. With a blank schedule, with only a general sense of where I feel like going, I wander. That allows me to wait for a moment that's all mine -- a reflection that no one else waited to see, a lane without people in it, just Venice. And this silhouette of a gondola, its gondoliere and a passenger, crossing a sunbeam of a thousand fiery crystals at dusk. 

La Maruzzella (Santa Maria al Bagno, Italy). It was lunchtime and this small town on Italy's heel had paused for lunch. The menu was written on paper tablecloths stretched beneath the elbows of hungry locals and pinned down by decanters of local white wine. As we sat and savored urchins, spaghetti, clams and mussels, the Sea demanded to be thanked. It crept up and up, splashing onto the deck as though it tried to get further and stronger with each slam. I wanted to see it come through the gate. I waited an absurd amount of time to catch it, but it kept falling short of the gate each time. Until, finally, it slammed through. 

Do you ever wait long for your pictures? Leave me a comment and let me know!