Some kind of End

I have decided to close the Bookshelf. It may seem sudden, but it has been brewing in me for a while. I suppose what happens is that life changes all the time, bit by bit, and all of a sudden the weight shifts and you have a whole new balance. It can feel like that one last piece that makes it slide is the very special catalyst, but I´m not so sure. I think it can be anything, as much as it is everything.

Alice Seely: "Bad Hairday", brooch.

Actually, Bookshelf-Viktoria has lately begun to feel a bit like a character in a novel. I know the subtitle of the blog is "Life is just another story", so that would be apt, but it´s uncomfortable and limiting more than anything else. And I´m not sure I believe it anymore. Perhaps I have reached a stage where I have developed what Keats called "negative capability". The blog started as an on-line version of my reading diary, which was an expression of my need to record, analyse, process, and order. I guess I don´t really feel the need for all that any more. Perhaps it´s to do with having to face illness and death in the family. Perhaps I am just ready to fokus whole-heartedly on creating, rather than watch others create. I never did see myself as a critic anyway. I feel a strong new energy bubbling up inside, almost anarchic in nature; I will run with that and see where it takes me.

I will continue to post on the Photoalbum while I ponder what to do; I will probably use more words than I have so far. Maybe I will develop that blog into something that fits me better, or create something completely different. I don´t know yet. Whatever I do, I will post information about it here and on the Photoalbum, so if you are a subscriber, you will be informed.

It has been 3½ great years with the Bookshelf, and I have had a lot of fun with it. I´m sure I will miss it, and I´m glad I´m quitting while it´s still something I feel good about. I am very greatful to everyone who has read, commented, emailed, and pushed me forward with their encouragement.

Thank you all.