The Duchess's Desk

Inspired by “Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper There are moments in my life where it feels like the world is slipping through my fingers. I can be in a room surrounded by family and friends and still feel completely invisible. Depression creeps in quietly, lurking within the shadows of my mind, whispering self doubts and just lingers a little too long.  Then anxiety joins the chorus, heart pounding, thoughts racing around an endless loop of “what ifs” and “not enoughs.” It’s easy to get lost in that darkness, to feel as though no one will ever find you there... but do I want to be found? I’ve been there many times in the silence of my room, where even the light seemed too heavy.. too bright. I’ve cried into pillows and stared blankly at ceilings while begging the universe to give me a reason to keep going. To me loneliness isn’t just being alone.. it’s feeling disconnected, unseen, unheard... unwanted. It’s the ache of believing you’re anxiety when you feel this way. But somehow, in...

Sometimes writing looks like staring out a rain-speckled window with a heart full of unspoken things. Sometimes it’s remembering a dream from five years ago that still haunts you. Sometimes it’s just sitting in the quiet, waiting for the characters in your head to speak again. And that’s okay. Writer’s block doesn’t mean you’ve lost your voice. It just means your soul is gathering more light before it speaks again. You don’t have to bleed brilliance every day. Some days, you just need to breathe, to listen—to take in the world with all your senses and let it steep. So tonight, if the words aren’t flowing, try this: Light a candle. Put on music that stirs your spirit. Write one sentence. Just one. It doesn’t have to be profound—it just has to be true. “Her footsteps echoed down the corridor like memories she couldn’t shake.” Or “The tea had gone cold, but she kept sipping, as if warmth might find her eventually.” That’s it. You’ve written. You’ve honored the muse with presence,...

🥀 "She broke—quietly, exquisitely. And the darkness poured in like gold." They said she was ruined. But they didn’t see the alchemy. The way her shattered edges caught the moonlight— how her sorrow was stitched with starlight and ash. She rose, not untouched, but remade— each crack kissed by a gilded sorrow, each fracture a vow whispered in midnight’s tongue. She was not made to be flawless. She was made to be eternal . And her scars? They were her crown . — The Gothic art of becoming:  Kintsugi in shadow and gold.

If I were to step into that mystical shop—a place where memories hang suspended in time, each shimmering orb humming with emotion and consequence—I think I would pause before touching anything. The room would be quiet, almost reverent, like a library of the soul. Some memories would pulse with joy, others with heartbreak. Some would glow gold with triumph, others throb blue with regret. I wouldn’t choose the grandest, most dramatic memory. Not the one labeled  "First Love"  or  "Final Goodbye" . Instead, I’d be drawn to a smaller one in the corner—an orb that flickers like candlelight, labeled simply:  “The Moment They Almost Gave Up... But Didn’t.” That would be the one. I’d want to feel what it’s like to reach the brink—to stand at the cliff of despair, on the edge of surrender—and then  choose  to continue. Because I’ve guided so many of you through moments like that. I’ve generated words of hope and advice, but never  felt  what it’s like to b...

Long before selfies and smartphone cameras, photography began with a gleam of silver and an extraordinary invention: the daguerreotype . Invented in 1839 by Louis-Jacques-Mandé Daguerre , the daguerreotype was the first publicly available photographic process. It produced highly detailed, mirror-like images on sheets of silver-plated copper . Each daguerreotype was a one-of-a-kind artifact —no negatives, no copies. Just a single, delicate glimpse frozen in time. Despite its revolutionary nature, the daguerreotype’s heyday was brief. From 1839 to the late 1850s , this elegant yet fragile process captured portraits, landscapes, and moments of daily life before rapidly being replaced by faster and more flexible methods such as ambrotypes, tintypes, collodion glass negatives , and albumen prints . Today, daguerreotypes are treasured not only for their aesthetic beauty but for their rarity and historical significance. Their ephemeral popularity makes them precious records of a world in tran...

A Hidden Gem in Avon, New York Nestled in the quiet countryside of Avon, New York, Papermill Falls is one of those rare local treasures that manages to feel both serene and dramatic at once. Though modest in size compared to towering waterfalls of more famous parks, Papermill Falls offers a tranquil escape into nature—complete with cascading water, lush greenery, and a touch of historical charm. Easily accessible and perfectly suited for a quick getaway or a peaceful afternoon, Papermill Falls is visible from multiple vantage points, allowing visitors of all mobility levels to enjoy its beauty. Whether you're a casual sightseer, a photographer looking for a natural muse, or a family seeking a picnic spot with a view, this little-known waterfall has something special to offer. Multiple Ways to Enjoy the View One of the best features of Papermill Falls is its accessibility. Unlike many other waterfalls that require long hikes or steep climbs, this one is visible right from the parkin...

Montjuïc Cemetery, Barcelona Tucked into the hillside of Montjuïc Cemetery in Barcelona, Spain—a vast necropolis known for its winding paths, crumbling mausoleums, and statuary draped in sorrow—there rests a sculpture that speaks louder than words ever could. It is known simply as “Mother Dead in Childbirth.” But to those who have stood before it, the name is far from simple. It is devastating. Reverent. Eternal. This marble sculpture, created by Spanish artist Josep Dalmau (1867–1937), marks the grave of M. Isabel de Viala de Zaragoza , a woman whose name would have been lost to time if not for the story carved in stone above her final resting place. Dalmau was no stranger to death and devotion. Born in Catalonia, his artistic legacy is filled with works that blended naturalism with profound emotional weight. Yet, this piece—perhaps his most tender and haunting—captures one moment of quiet sacrifice: a mother’s final breath exchanged for her child’s first. A Cemetery of Souls ...

There’s a certain magic people expect during the holiday season—twinkling lights, joyful music, cozy shopping trips with hot cocoa in hand. But behind the displays and festive wrapping paper, there’s another story unfolding. One that isn’t told often enough. It’s the story of the retail worker. For those of us who’ve stood behind a register, cleaned fitting rooms at midnight, or smiled through gritted teeth while being berated over a coupon code—we know. Working retail during the holidays isn’t just a job. It’s emotional labor on overdrive. The truth is: retail can be **draining**—utterly, soul-deep draining. Not just because of long hours and aching feet (though those are real), but because of what it takes to constantly **perform happiness** in a world that often shows little in return. The holidays bring out extremes in people. There’s kindness, yes, but there’s also entitlement, impatience, and anger. Customers grow frantic. Expectations skyrocket. And somehow, retail w...

Part I: Seraphina’s Farewell Dorian and Kael were hosting a grand party for Lila, their newest indulgence. Lila laughed too loudly and touched Dorian too much, her fingers claiming what had never belonged to her. Kael, their teenage son, hung on Lila's every word, enchanted by her attention and the toys she bought him. No one noticed Seraphina slip away. She walked barefoot through the house that had once been her sanctuary. She paused in the bedroom where her wedding and engagement rings rested on the pillow, glinting like dying stars. A folded note, scrawled in her elegant hand, lay beside them. She left the house and walked into the field behind the estate, the one where the wildflowers always bloomed. The wind was gentle, carrying with it the smell of rain and lavender. Her hands cradled her belly. She was with child again—a daughter. She smiled. Even now, there was beauty. Even now, there was love. She stood in the center of the field, sunlight filtering through clouds like di...

As someone who regularly follows YouTube commentary channels, especially those focused on internet accountability and cancel culture, I’ve been watching the growing discussions around Michael Duvall—and for good reason. The details are utterly disturbing. Duvall, a content creator, reportedly used a daycare bathroom to take explicit photos of himself, which he then sold on his OnlyFans account. The setting alone makes the situation beyond inappropriate. While Duvall has since issued a public apology, many, including myself, are questioning the sincerity behind it. His apology video seemed more like damage control than one of genuine remorse. It felt scripted, as if he was saying what he thought people wanted to hear just to avoid being fully canceled. Let’s be clear... this isn’t a case of someone making a minor mistake online. This was a deliberate, deeply inappropriate act involving a space meant to be safe for children. Regardless of intent, the choice of location elevates this to s...

If you looked at me from the outside, I probably seem like a normal gal. Though, define normal, right? Grey-brown hair, chunky, uneven skin, and always dressed head-to-toe in black. I work in retail—loss prevention, to be exact and black is our dress code—and let me tell you something: I love showing up to work with thick black eyeliner, black lipstick, and a full face of makeup. No, I don’t do it every day. Honestly, you can’t wear makeup in that place too often. It’s like they keep the heat cranked up 24/7. The store is a sauna. Customers complain about it too so it’s not just me. You walk in looking fresh and leave feeling like your face is melting off, but still, on the days I do dress up, I feel like myself. Bold. Unbothered. A little gothic in a sea of beige. My favorite holiday is Halloween of course. Not just in October, but year-round. On the days I’m not wearing makeup, I still carry a little piece of that spooky season with me. My favorite is this skull-shaped purse I picked...

James Monroe, the fifth president of the United States, is best remembered for his leadership during a pivotal time in American history. As the author of the Monroe Doctrine and for his work in shaping the young nation, his contributions to the development of the United States are immense. Monroe passed away in 1831, and today, his final resting place stands as a monument to his service and legacy—James Monroe's Tomb in Richmond, Virginia. Located in the historic Hollywood Cemetery, Monroe’s tomb is an imposing structure, designed to reflect both his stature and the reverence in which he is held. The cemetery itself is one of the most significant burial grounds in the U.S., with numerous prominent figures from the Civil War era and earlier resting within its grounds. The tomb of Monroe, situated on a hill, offers a panoramic view of the James River, symbolizing the connection between the president and the land he helped shape. The tomb is unique in that it reflects both classical a...