Charlotte “Lotte” Vale

@espressoprose.bsky.social

A place where words meet wonder. I write a little, read a little more, and drink a lot of coffee—fueling musings on life, stories, and everything in between. Sip, dream, and linger awhile. All photos and writings are my own unless I state otherwise.

My heart confuses one doorway for another The house will fill again The quiet will change Familiarity will return And my heart wants to be across the ocean No wonder it is restless It is trying to understand how much room there is for everything I feel I don’t have to answer tonight

Klimt 1895 “Liebe”… before his gold leaf era. This shows the arc of a life of love.

We spend our lives leaving little landmarks of affection in each other’s worlds, often without realizing we’re doing it. A landmark doesn’t demand attention. It simply exists. You don’t have to visit it every day. That’s how genuine affection often feels. Not dramatic. Orienting. #writing

Coffee mug on a table in front of a window

A quick word on Taco Bell: That's where we found the suspected lettuce, and it's not bc Taco Bell is gross. It's bc Taco Bell is REALLY GOOD at tracing product! Keeping track of exactly where they got their ingredients, & exactly what restaurants each shipment of ingredients went to!

The door is mine. The key is mine. And that is what makes opening it sacred. I do not open because I am empty and searching for someone to complete me. I open because I am whole, and I choose to share the mystery of that wholeness with another.

Doorway leading to an ornate entryway of a tearoom in Potsdam.

A thunderstorm in Seattle. So rare the city seems to pause and listen. A busy café. A delightful, colorful cup. These are the days I love this city… the days I wish I could slow time and simply live inside the moment. Me and my beloved coffee.

A to go coffee cup with a green lid and cardboard sleeve. On a counter with a window behind it

There are days when the distance between where I am and where I ache to be feels impossibly wide Coffee Wool Quiet Busy hands to keep sorrow from settling Perhaps this is how we survive not by outrunning longing but by weaving tenderness through it until the heart can bear the waiting #longing

Coffee cup with foam on a dark wood table top with a small view of the window and world outside.

The night will not cool its breath clings to my skin like regret and I lie unmade pressed beneath a ceiling too low for dreams too near to thought I am undone by ordinary devastations small violences of being passed over unheard in the places where I gave everything I had