These past few weeks have felt like a blur — a mix of late nights, long to-do lists, and a lot of moments that have pushed me far outside my comfort zone. Between wrapping up my exhibition project and jumping into a new project with my local organization, the pace has been nonstop. But somehow, in all the chaos, I’ve found time to reflect on what it is I am doing here.

A few weeks ago, I was invited to help the local church here prepare for its 40th anniversary — a milestone that holds deep meaning, especially considering the nation of Kosovo just celebrated its 17th. I was asked to design a commemorative book that would document the church’s history. It began with digitizing decades of photos and documents — a time-consuming process, but a meaningful one. These weren’t just documents, they were memories. Ones that had survived war, displacement, and the test of time. Holding these photos in my hands reminded me why I started this journey in the first place: to help preserve the stories that matter.

Working on this project has given me more than just a breather from the unknowns of my own work. It’s reminded me of what I do know. It’s given me a space to use my skills confidently while still contributing to something bigger than myself. And through it, I’ve found new material that’s helped inform my exhibition as well as hold a place in it. I now have access to old news clippings, photographs, and timelines that capture the strength and sacrifice of this community. An opportunity that I never expected to happen.

Still, I’ll be honest, a lot of this journey has felt like walking into the dark with only a small flashlight. There’s been no professor grading me, no project partner to bounce ideas off of, and no clear roadmap laid out. It’s just been me — writing, filming, editing, interviewing — and hoping I’m doing it all justice. There have been countless moments where I’ve been hit with waves of self-doubt, of imposter syndrome, of wondering if I’m capable of capturing something so layered and important.

For a long time, I avoided writing about that part. I felt guilty making this project about my experience when the whole reason I’m here is to spotlight the voices of others. I felt guilty because so many people put their trust in me, and I was scared that any sign of weakness would put doubt in their heads as well as mine. But I think the truth is, is that this is a part of the story I am telling. We are all faced with the unknown. Whether that’s in our work, our country’s future, or our personal lives. But we must step into it nonetheless. 

There have been days when my fears screamed louder than my confidence — fears that I would fail, that I wouldn’t be enough, that I would let people down. But every time I’ve felt that fear and still shown up — whether that’s conducting an interview, navigating cultural barriers, or simply eating alone at a restaurant — I’ve proven to myself that I can. I am not faced with the same things that my interview candidates are, which has only fueled my ability to face unknowns in my own life and project. 

My project is far from over, with a whole new set of challenges waiting for me when my time finishes up at the end of the month and I head home to build this exhibition. However, I am ready to step into the unknown and truly see what is waiting for me at the end of this experience, and I couldn’t be more grateful for the time that I have had here in Kosovo.

Work has been very busy in the last two weeks, which I am grateful for! I thrive when I have structure and a solid task list. We’ve had a full workshop schedule, with different age groups, ability levels, and locations. It’s beautiful to observe how each class brings their own unique strengths to create a completely original story, despite the fact that we employ the same workshop techniques every time. I highly recommend you visit the Fighting Words NI Library of Stories and read some of our recent stories. They’re full of wacky characters, witty quips, and dramatic cliffhangers. One of my favorites was a story about a smiley egg and a piece of extremely crispy bacon who turned from friends to foes after the revelation of the egg’s unfortunate proclivity for cannibalism. 

As you may remember, we have just moved into a new office space and it’s lovely! We have a large window, which brings in daylight and fresh air, and we’re surrounded by other arts organizations in the building. There’s a really friendly atmosphere here–I’ve enjoyed waving hello to our new neighbors in the hallways, chatting with the baristas in the ground floor cafe (which has INCREDIBLE decaf, by the way), and working peacefully at the sunny picnic tables out front. As sad as we all were about moving out of Connswater, working at the Crescent feels like a breath of fresh air. It’s also conveniently located near the Botanic Gardens, so I’ve been getting my daily flower dose on my lunch breaks, and tearing through books on my Kindle.

Although the new office has a lot of perks, it’s a very compact space. We currently have an island of mismatched desks crammed together in the center of the room, with boxes piled high and unpacked in the corners of the room. We would really love to get unpacked and fully settle in, but we don’t have any shelves to put things away on yet. So, I spent the last week writing up a proposal to IKEA asking them to donate some shelves, desks, and decor to make our space more functional and welcoming. They have a program where they sponsor charities who are making a positive impact on their community, so I think we have a good shot at getting approved. I wrote a cover letter explaining our unceremonious eviction from Connswater, a proposal explaining what kind of work we do and how we would benefit from the items we’re requesting, and a presentation showcasing my vision for the new office space. If we get the sponsorship, it will be cool to know that my work contributed to a nice future office for my colleagues, even though I will probably be gone before it fully comes to fruition. 

One more piece of exciting professional news! This week, The Irish Times published an article that I wrote about my observations and lessons learned from working with Fighting Words. It was very exciting to buy a physical copy from the grocery store newsstand in the morning and to know that people all over Ireland are reading my words! You can also read the article on the Irish Times website. 

I’m hyper aware of my quickly dwindling time in Belfast. I decided not to travel in May so that I could plug in here– spending quality time with friends and going to all the cool things that I’ve been meaning to go to and never got around to. I’m reallocating my travel budget to try that restaurant, go to that event, explore that unfamiliar corner of the city! This mission has led me to discover some awesome Belfast gems, as well as revisit some old favorites, often in the company of good friendship. I wandered through bluebell patches in Cregagh Glen, tried the camembert at Bert’s Jazz Club, got a comically asymmetrical sunburn at the Crawfordsburn Beach, marveled at a truly sensational aerial hoop dancer at the Festival of Fools, cried from laughter and melancholy at the Tenx9 storytelling event, slurped noodles at Ragin’ Ramen, bobbed my head to DJ beats at an artisan market in the Crumlin Road Jail, redeemed my completed punch card for a free bagel sandwich at Bodega Bagel, cheered for runners on the sidelines of the Belfast Marathon, and got a funky necklace at the shop run by Ulster art students. 

I also hiked up Cave Hill, which I have now seen in all four seasons. The gorse was in full bloom and I basked in its tropical fragrance while I savored the now-familiar view from the top of McArt’s Fort. I thought about my first visit to Cave Hill, when I was still learning how to use the bus system and completely misjudged the temperature when dressing for it, resulting in a blend of being extremely sweaty and cold at the same time, somehow. I remember how at peace and hopeful I felt then, despite the unfamiliarity of literally all of my surroundings. I felt the same peace each time I returned, with different nuances. This final time, the peace was tinged with wistfulness. I love Belfast. It’s my favorite place I’ve ever lived, and it’s taught me a lot about what kind of place I want to plant myself in the future. I feel at home and ever-inspired by Belfast’s colorful art scene, humor-laced resilience, friendly openness to new-comers (despite decades of past violence and distrust), and stunning green spaces. With each beautiful Belfast experience in my last full month here, there’s an element of sadness in knowing that I’ll be leaving soon. But there’s also a sense of how lucky I’ve been to know such a wonderful place! I’m planning to spend my remaining days soaking it all up, with gratitude.

It’s the Easter Holiday Spectacular! I had several weeks off work in mid-April, so I decided to spend ten days gallivanting across three European cities: Venice, Salzburg, and Amsterdam. I hadn’t originally planned to go to Venice, but some last-minute changes brought me to the ancient floating city. With a friend I made in my hostel, I spent two days exploring the city on foot, stopping in museums and cathedrals (the violin museum was my favorite) and sampling overpriced espressos. Some highlights include a quiet night exploring the Dorsoduro district and attending a performance of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. 

Venice canal

Venice itself feels like a museum—it’s jam-packed with tourists and high-brow boutiques, and little about the city feels “alive.” While it was a pleasure to experience, I was ready to board my train to Salzburg, Austria. The journey was stunning; I passed through Verona’s endless vineyards and nearly decaying multi-colored homes, gawked under the towering Dolomites, and changed trains by the snow-capped mountains of Innsbruck.

One of my train transfers

After several missed trains and nearly eight hours of travel, I arrived at Salzburg and met my host, Johanna, who I would be staying with for the next few days. Johanna and I immediately discovered we have much in common: we both studied English at university, we both lived in Iceland, and we both loved folk music. We spent that evening preparing an Austrian-style cheese board (including pickles, radishes, Johanna’s homemade Pumpkin bread, and local dairy) and taking a moonlit walk around her neighborhood—a quiet village with miles of green pastures and a stunning view of the alpine mountains. We shared a meaningful conversation about our past relationships and the role faith plays in our lives. For the second time that week, I found that a stranger knew more about the dramas and complexities of my life than most people did. I love experiencing solo travel this way, knowing that I have friends scattered across the world. 

The hills are alive with the sound of music!

Salzburg is one of, if not the most beautiful city I’ve ever seen. Its Baroque-style churches and cream-colored buildings are seen from the scenic river walkway with the mountains not far behind. I explored the city on foot and through a guided Sound of Music tour, learning fun facts about the city along the way (like how Red Bull is headquartered there and Mozart grew up in the city). I took a day trip to the mountain town Hallstatt where I discovered that sometimes the most Instagrammable spots are not worth visiting: it was brimming with tourists and had little to do beyond take photos of the “photo-worthy” spot (which is literally marked on the map as “Scenic Viewpoint”). Back in Salzburg, I closed out my time in Austria with a walk around Johanna’s neighborhood that resembled “the hills” where Julia Andrews danced, and I reflected on how grateful I was to be in this dreamy European city.

Salzburg at night

The final stop on my tour was Amsterdam, which has long been a favorite spot of mine. I was there to meet up with my dear friend and travel companion Eleri for our shared birthday weekend. It doesn’t really matter what I’m doing with Eleri, because we always have a good time. We somewhat hilariously confused the Van Gogh Rembrandt Museum (which provides a trendy, modern light show) with the actual museum, so we had a running bit about how I was cursed to never see Van Gogh (because all my previous attempts of doing so had failed). But we were successful at riding bikes around Dutch tulip fields and finding the most delicious tapas restaurant I’d ever been to (I had tuna and burrata cheese, sweet potato fries with truffle mayo, and roasted cauliflower). On Friday night we went to an English storytelling night, which was highly entertaining, and on Easter Sunday we attended an English mass before going our separate ways, and then, after a surprising turn of events, I did make it into the Van Gogh Museum. It was a birthday miracle. 

Eleri and I riding bikes around Keukenhof’s tulip fields

When I arrived back in Bournemouth, I had less than two weeks left in the country. I spent my time doing all of my “lasts”: last run club, last fiddle lesson, last workshop, last jam night, last youth group. I bade tender farewells to my closest friends and threw a wrap-party / fundraiser night for The Story Work’s. This included a presentation recapping the work we’ve done this year followed by live music and poetry readings (by yours truly and three fellow volunteers). The volunteers even surprised me with my very own illustrated Story Works booklet, written about my life but if nine year-olds wrote it. Overall, I felt so celebrated and valued that night, and I’m more proud than ever of the work our charity is doing and has done. 

The Story Works team at our end-of-year celebration

Oh, I also ran a marathon in Shakespeare’s hometown, Stratford-upon-Avon!

Until next time,

Elisabeth

I have been with the new five- and four-year-olds for two weeks. All the kids are in new classes now. Everyone moved up a grade; that was a surprise! There are new babies in the baby class as well! They are so precious! Since this was my first week back since being sick, I was still in recovery. I had headaches almost every day, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. The five-year-olds found some handbells while I was with them. We sang Do-Re-Me from The Sound of Music and taught the kids the different hand signals for each note. They loved it! Another fun activity I participated in was a relay race with the five-year-olds. They needed me to even out the teams. The girl I passed my baton to was the fastest kid there. I was so impressed! One of the five-year-olds is fluent in English! I am not sure why; she told me her parents speak it at home, but she doesn’t know how they know English. Even though I was able to use more English, my Japanese is still something I am working on and improving. I had a broken, but understandable, conversation with one of the five-year-olds during lunch one day. It was cool to have a kid that I could communicate with easily. I have learned that my Apple Watch can be a translator, so I have started using it to understand simple words that I hear repeated by the children. We took the kids on a field trip to the park. This is not unusual, but it’s always a surprise what work we go to because it’s different each time. The one we went to this time was a far walk. It had me reflecting on how American schools don’t have this same luxury. Not only due to the lack of pedestrian streets, but also because many big elementary schools are on a large plot of land, and it would take 10 minutes just to walk from the entrance to the school to the sidewalk to go anywhere. The four-year-old class I was with had many students I had not interacted with before. In early childhood fashion, many of the new kids were testing their limits with me and how they could play with me. I had a little difficulty with some children climbing on me and similar behaviors because I did not have a good and consistent way to communicate boundaries with them. Thankfully, after a slight learning curve, I have figured out how to set boundaries with them. Now that everyone is familiar with who I am, the classes get sad when I have to leave and swarm me for high-fives and hugs. It is bittersweet because I am happy I have made a good impression, but it is sad to see them sad to see me leave. 

Music therapy was extra fun this time! I introduced a new game with the five-year-olds. It targets their divided attention and listening skills. I lined them up into two lines and placed an egg shaker between all of them. Then we all started singing the Japanese version of head-shoulders-knees-toes with the motions. The catch was that if I replaced a lyric with the word “shaker,” they had to reach for the shaker in front of them. The first person ot catch it won that round. It also helped the kids work on teamwork, because the kids who got out got to cheer on their competitor. After the first two rounds, the teachers wanted to join in too! The four-year-olds had an absolute blast with freeze dance! They have even started requesting it, they had so much fun. We worked on their colors in English and Japanese, which was needed. They have made progress, though, and that is exactly what music therapy is for!

I have started eating my lunch in the park near the nursery school since the weather has been so nice. Now that I’ve started, I can’t stop! It’s such a beautiful park, and it’s so peaceful eating there every day. It gives me a nice chance to clear my head and relax. Since the park is a public setting, I can call my friends on my lunch break! I talked to my besties Emma and Allie to catch up, and it was great. 

One day, on my way home, it was raining very hard. On my walk, I passed a mother with her young daughter. The daughter’s umbrella popped inside out, and it made the young girl laugh so hard. Her laughter was so contagious! It was nice that something so simple made a nice moment with some strangers, especially something that would normally be a bother. Children help show me the whimsy in life. 

My host brother Souta bought a goldfish. I am not sure where the fish is in the house. I have not seen it since he bought it. It seemed like the whole family was excited when we went to pick it out, so I am sure it is well taken care of! Hinata got a new game for the DS. It’s a game I recommended she play, and now she plays it all the time!! It makes me wish I had brought my DS, but I did not want to overpack, so I only brought my Nintendo Switch. Since it was Easter season over the weekend, I decided to fast for half of the day on Friday and then study the scriptures in the park on Saturday. While I was at the park, I met two guys who requested to take a video of me giving some kind words to their friends who are getting married. They showed me their project, and they had all kinds of people wishing their friends happiness, mostly foreigners. They asked me because they figured I was a Brazilian, but when I walked by them, I smiled, and that let them know I was an American. Smiling at strangers is an American giveaway. I ended up hanging out with them. It was nice to feel like I had some friends in Toyohashi, especially since one of them was fluent in English. On Easter Sunday, my (now-ex) boyfriend and I went on a break. It made it incredibly difficult for me to concentrate the following week. However, I pushed through it, and the kids at the nursery helped keep my mind off it. Then, the following Saturday, I was broken up with. It is gut-wrenching going through this in another country. However, it is showing me how strong I am. Although it makes it more challenging, it has not hindered my ability to show up and do volunteer work for the kids. The day after getting dumped, I went to Ghibli Park. I had bought my ticket months ago, and I was not going to let a man ruin my plans. I ended up having a great time! I made a new friend that I met through an English speakers group chat I am a part of. I had an extra ticket, so she used it. We both had a wonderful time and have a lot in common. We both love The Secret World of Arrietty. I bought so many souvenirs as well, and I cannot wait to decorate my place in America with my souvenirs.

Over the past couple of months, I’ve had the privilege to sit down with people and ask some really big, and sometimes really hard, questions. Questions about what it was like during the war, what they think of Kosovo today, and what they hope for in the future. These conversations haven’t always been easy — for some, it brings up painful memories, for others, it’s a reminder of how uncertain things still feel. And yet, each time I’ve asked someone to share their story, I’ve received the same unwavering response: “Anything for my country.” That phrase has really stuck with me. One of the things I’ve been especially curious about is how people my age — or even younger — connect to this history they didn’t personally live through. I’ve heard a range of answers, but one theme keeps coming back: it’s not about feeling weighed down by the past, it’s about feeling a responsibility to honor it. To do something with it. To help build something better because of it.

As I have begun brainstorming titles for my exhibition, I have been exploring various words to capture the complex story I wish to tell. The word forge has fascinated me. It shows up in so many different places — from blacksmithing to art — but two definitions in particular have really stuck with me. The first is to move forward slowly and steadily. The second is to move ahead with a sudden burst of speed and strength. They’re kind of opposites when you think about it — one is all about patience, the other about power — but both are about movement, about progress. That dual meaning feels like the perfect way to describe what I’ve been learning here in Kosovo. It’s a place that’s rebuilding brick by brick, conversation by conversation — but at the same time, when you zoom out and see how far it’s come in just 25 years, it’s honestly breathtaking. That’s why I’ve titled this exhibition Forging a Nation: Stories of Conflict, Resilience, and Identity. It captures both sides of the story — the steady climb and the sudden leaps forward.

Now, I’m getting ready to move into the next part of this project — the part where I start translating these stories and themes into visuals. That means creating photography, design, and media that reflects the complexity, strength, and emotion I’ve been lucky enough to witness in every interview. It’s a little intimidating, to be honest, but also exciting. This work isn’t just about putting images on walls — it’s about capturing lived experiences and finding a way to share them in a way that feels honest, personal, and human. I want the people who see this exhibition to feel something. To feel what I’ve felt here — that resilience isn’t always loud, that progress comes in many forms, and that stories, when shared, really do have the power to forge something new.

A lot has happened since my last update, so this will be a long one. Last weekend, I traveled to Amsterdam to meet up with my friend Elisabeth for our birthday (which was also Easter!). We had a wonderful weekend full of lively activities and leisurely moments. I adore Amsterdam, although the constant onslaught of determined cyclists whizzing past me at 100 mph had me a bit on edge as I wandered through the city. My good friend Liz happened to be in Amsterdam at the same time, so we had a lovely surprise meetup at a coffee shop, where we got yelled at for attempting to smuggle in bagel sandwiches. I learned lots of important facts in my exploration, my favorite being that tulip bulbs used to be so sacred and valuable that one would be worth more than a townhouse in the city centre. 

We did the classic Amsterdam things, like sampling cheese and taking a canal cruise, but we also found some cool experiences slightly off the beaten path. One of those was a storytelling night at Mezrab, where 6 professional storytellers told funny, embarrassing, delightfully embellished, heartbreaking, inspiring stories about a wide range of life events. As someone who greatly enjoys the craft of storytelling, I was inspired and engaged the whole time. Being involved in a place like Mezrab, as an organizer or a storyteller, would be a dream job for me. It’s cool to see the community and fun that a unique space like that can create. 

Instead of paying for entry to the iconic Keukenhof tulip gardens, we rented bikes and rode through 25 km of the surrounding area. It felt like some kind of magical teleportation through different lands, as we pedaled through fields of swaying technicolor tulips and patches of forested shade, navigated between eclectic shop facades and grassy dunes, and paused to take in the view at the beach and a lakeside cafe. I hadn’t ridden a bike in a long time, but I felt a deep sense of nostalgia remembering how I spent so many summer nights in childhood riding my bike at the college campus near my house. I would listen to music on my iPod Shuffle and think angsty thoughts about my vastly complex 8-year-old life. I never imagined that 15 years later, I’d be riding blissfully through the Dutch countryside. 

The birthday festivities concluded with a potluck dinner in Belfast. The word potluck might evoke mixed reactions if you grew up in the American South, but let me assure you that this potluck was the height of class and deliciousness. Offerings included leek and potato galette, balsamic onion cheese, and a mocha raspberry cake made by yours truly. It was so lovely to see my friends chatting and laughing effortlessly with each other, even though they had only just met. I felt a great sense of gratitude for the community I have built since arriving in September. Before arriving, I worried that it would be difficult to find people my age to connect with, but I’ve been lucky to find kind people around every corner in Belfast, and my birthday dinner was a nice celebration of that. 

I’ve also been continuing to enjoy occasional solitude–donning funky outfits to read in coffee shops (getting creative with the same clothes I’ve had here since September), cooking up a storm (I need to be eating at home after all that traveling, but it doesn’t have to be boring), exploring new walking routes (I discovered a pond with swans and a view of the hills!), replacing phone use with books and crafts (just finished Wuthering Heights for the first time), and finding cool events to attend (it turns out Belfast has a monthly storytelling night called Tenx9)!

Last but not least, work has been getting busier after the lull of Easter Break. Last week, fueled by matcha and excitement, we moved our belongings out of storage and into our new office space at The Crescent Arts Centre! It feels so nice to have a stationary home after floating through the last month in a combination of working from home and borrowing spaces for meetings. We’re not even close to being unpacked, but we’ve spent our first week here analyzing feng shui, rearranging furniture, stepping over boxes, and enjoying being together again. Yesterday, I built my first IKEA bookshelf! I’m feeling like a real Bob the Builder in the above photo, where I’m in what we were calling “bookshelf jail”. 

The school workshop team has spent some time reflecting on our practices and developing some new methods to try based on our observations. This week, we had three workshops, where we put our new ideas to the test. We were all a little rusty at the original format, which made it slightly difficult to incorporate new aspects, but I think a lot of the changes worked. For example, we decided to change the order of the collaborative writing of Chapter 1. Typically, we write the story line-by-line, finish with a cliffhanger, do some light editing, and lastly, vote on a title. In the new format, we write the story, stop before we get to a cliffhanger, vote on a title, edit, and put the cliffhanger in last. In the past, we have often struggled to get a good cliffhanger sentence on the first try. Our hypothesis was that by asking students to vote on a title and edit the story first, they would be able to better synthesize the plot and reflect on cliffhanger ideas, instead of feeling the need to impulsively decide on one before fully grasping the arc of the story or the concept of a cliffhanger. It has worked really well, which emphasizes the importance of continuously evaluating our practices, even when we have been doing them a certain way for a long time. Small changes like that can make a significant difference in the success of the story and students’ resulting sense of pride and confidence in their writing abilities. The above photo includes today’s cliffhanger, along with my expert illustration of the story’s events. Check out the full story here. I only have one month of working left, which makes me so sad! I am really going to miss the workshops and spending time with my Fighting Words colleagues. 

It is that time of year when kids are moving on to their new grade. These last two weeks started with the five-year-olds graduating. Monday was their last day, so I did a music therapy session with them to celebrate. We did multiple rounds of freeze dance to songs that are popular amongst their group, egg shaker games, and singing. They had lots of fun, and each got to stand up and make music for their peers. Sadly, it was the last time I would see this group of kiddos, but I know they will be successful kindergarteners! I was with the four-year-olds on Tuesday, Wednesday, and on Thursday I was with the three-year-olds. It was a typical week with them. I got Friday off due to the graduation ceremony for the five-year-olds. 

The school was in transition because the five-year-olds graduated and only came on Monday. The commotion of the teachers preparing for the new school year made my role a little less structured than it typically is. 

Since I will need to renew my visa in May, I am going to South Korea during Golden Week. I booked my flights to and from Seoul and filled out my customs declaration form to get back into Japan more smoothly. It was difficult to find the links to fill out my customs declaration, and I still need to see if there is anything I need to do to make Korea’s customs smoother. Hopefully, I will be fully prepared and have an easy transition through customs. 

I went on a picnic in Nagoya with my American friend Megan. She invited me, as well as other English speakers, to join her on a picnic in a beautiful park in Nagoya! There were food trucks, TONS of people, and the sakura was blooming. I had a blast and met some wonderful people I would love to see again. I connected with an American girl that I have a lot in common with, and one of the guys was into art and made a beautiful painting of the grand gazebo we were sitting by. My food was delicious, I got a taco and loaded fries! 

The next day, Kyoko took me to her salon to give me highlights and a haircut. She did wonderfully, and I loved how it turned out. Unfortunately, I threw up in the middle of the appointment! I did not think much of it, I assumed I had eaten something bad. As the day went on, I felt worse and worse. This led to a trip to the ER. We were worried I had appendicitis. Thankfully, I was clear of appendicitis, but I was very sick with my fever spiking at 102. Kyoko was a wonderful host mom through my sickness, though. She took great care of me and helped me not be afraid. It is a scary experience being so sick in a foreign country. If I had an illness that required more serious action, I would have been terrified of medical malpractice since I did not have the language to speak up for myself. All the glory to God that I was not that sick, but on the downside, I was bedridden for an entire week. In hindsight, I was extra tired and in a slump the week leading up to being sick. Maybe it was a warning sign, or maybe it was just the chaos of the school being in transition. Either way, being sick was miserable, but I recovered and am back in action as I am writing this. I experienced my first bout of homesickness while being sick. I missed my American comfort foods, my family, and my cushy bed and parents’ couch that reclines all the way back. I think it was just because I was sick that I felt this homesickness, since I was bedridden, bored, and lonely with very few foods I was able to keep down. Thankfully, by Saturday, I felt well enough to try to get back to my normal routine. It wasn’t perfect, but I didn’t want to be sick anymore.

Lately it’s felt like the start of summer in South England: clear blue skies, 20 degrees celsius, the sun beating down on the water. Everyone and their mother is out on days like these, and I’m grateful I get to see but a glimmer of Bournemouth as the summer-seaside destination that it is. On the warmest day of the year, my friends Catherine and Erica and I went to the beach to enjoy a classic Mr. Whippy ice cream cone and a walk along the water. We listened to the waves crash against the shore and traced our fingers in the sand; I’ll miss being this close to the ocean when I’m stateside. 

Mr Whippy on the beach

It’s been a very social few weeks! I’ve enjoyed several hangs with my church friends—they do such a great job at actively making me feel valued and included even though I’m new to the group. We’ve enjoyed an early-summer barbeque (featuring s’mores with digestives and a viewing of the ASDF movie compilation), a homemade dinner and house-tour in Salisbury, and takeaway fish and chips on the beach. I had my first co-write in Bournemouth, went to my friend Sebastian’s house for a lovely meal, visited an art gallery with my friend Mirek, played trivia with Alex, and enjoyed sunset runs with Run Club pals. Looking back at my life in September, I’m so grateful for the relationships I’ve developed and for how much more supported I feel now compared to then. 

BBQ with church friends (LR: Catherine, Erica, Joel, Leah, Isaac, Rosie)

The week before Easter holidays was big for The Story Works, because we had the unveiling of a hoarding installation that had been in the works since December. The installation contains art from our workshops and information about our charity down one of Bournemouth’s busiest streets. Not only is this great publicity for our charity, but our volunteers get to see their art in a public, professional space, and children get to see their ideas taken seriously. The installation is up for a year, and I’m proud of myself for making this happen by fostering a connection with Kier Construction—the company we partnered with to make this happen—and by curating the installation. Tom, our trustee, and I were interviewed about the project here. 

Following the unveiling, The Story Works had our final workshop before Easter break began. We tried a new format for this one: instead of children raising their hands to suggest ideas for the story, we split them into five groups (one for each category: main character, villain, sidekick, setting, and plot) and each child would individually write down and contribute an idea. We tried this as a way to get the quieter kids involved, and I think we will incorporate this method into future workshops. I was a very shy elementary schooler, so having the additional time to brainstorm and write down an idea would’ve helped me to contribute. 

Next up is Easter holiday! As I write this, I have just returned from traveling through Italy, Austria, and Holland—but more on that next week! 

Until next time,

Elisabeth

When I was little, one of my favorite things to do was sift through the bins of our family photographs. I’d sit with my mom and sisters, sorting baby pictures into piles, laughing at the hairstyles of the ’80s, and freaking out at photos of my parents with exes I’m happy they didn’t end up with. These moments always ended the same way—me noticing that my pile of baby pictures was noticeably smaller than my two older sisters’ and therefore throwing a fit. Still, those times remain some of my most cherished memories. Family photographs are more than just pictures; they are powerful markers of our identity and belonging. They tell stories we may have forgotten, bring loved ones back into the present, and offer glimpses into lives we didn’t get to experience firsthand.

So, when I began conceptualizing this exhibition, I knew that photography would play a crucial role in the telling of this story. I began researching photographic practices specific to Kosovo and came across an academic article by Zanita Halimi titled “Photographic Practices among Albanian Families in Kosovo.” The piece explores the ways families sought to preserve their photos during the 1998–99 Kosovo War, offering insight into the emotional and historical weight that images can carry. 

Halimi outlines three categories of preservation practices during the diaspora. The first being families who had no time to take photos with them due to the urgency of fleeing for their lives. The second group is those families who brought their photos with them despite warnings that soldiers might destroy them. And the third includes families who chose to hide their photos before deportation–burying them in hopes that, no matter what happened, someone would one day find them and know who had lived there, what they looked like, and what had been lost.

During one of my recent interviews, I discovered a fourth category—families who chose not to leave at all because of their photographs. The participant shared with me that she was just seven years old when the war reached her small town of Vushtrri. Soldiers gave her neighborhood a single hour to evacuate, warning that anyone who stayed would be killed. Her family, however, made the impossible choice to stay behind, for one reason: they couldn’t bear to leave behind the only photograph they had of her older brother, who had fled the country before the war began.

“My mom only had one photo of him, but the frame couldn’t fit in a suitcase. I think it’s so dumb—that’s the reason we stayed. But we didn’t go out. So every single second, every single day, we were just waiting for the soldiers to come and kill us. The town was empty. It was just our family, and the horses, sheep, and cows that people set free.”

This story stopped me in my tracks. It reminded me that photographs aren’t just keepsakes. They’re fragments of people’s lives, holding emotions and memories too sacred to be left behind. They are proof of existence: of who we were, who we loved, and who we continue to carry with us. Photographs can open doors, bridge generations, and breathe life into stories that history books may overlook. But they can also represent something much deeper: the lengths we’ll go to protect our identity, preserve our legacy, and ensure that, no matter what happens, someone remembers we were here.

Work has been pretty unconventional since our unceremonious eviction from Connswater. My colleagues have been joking about how many weird tasks you end up doing when you work for an arts organization, and this move has definitely had us doing some odd jobs. The day before we found out we would have to move out of Connswater, we had 40 brand new beanbag cubes delivered to our workshop space there. It was a coincidence of tragic timing. These cubes are gorgeous, multi-colored and corduroy, and we really did not want to have to give them up. We debated for weeks about what to do with them and researched lots of options for returning them, giving them away, or keeping them. We ended up deciding to store all 40 of them in my coworker’s flat, at least temporarily. That is why last Friday, Marnie, Aoife, and I spent the morning moving 40 beanbags (individually boxed) out of Connswater and into Aoife’s flat. It was a tedious process, but the beanbags were blessedly light and we got the job done in record time. 

I laughed to myself because this certainly isn’t what I pictured myself doing when I planned this project a year ago, but I am just happy to be along for the ride. Our move from Connswater has forced all of us to adjust our expectations and plans for Fighting Words, but it hasn’t detracted from the quality of the experience at all. Work looks different than I thought it would– I’m delivering workshops in schools instead of in our workshop space, working from home and coffee shops more than in an office, and stepping up for the unique needs of each new day. We have been able to assemble the team for in-person meetings semi-regularly, and it’s nice to see everyone and offer encouragement to each other. Next week, we will move into our new office space at The Crescent Arts Centre, so we’ll get to put down some roots and feel more settled. I’m excited to see what this next chapter of Fighting Words work brings!

My other big update is that I went to Barcelona! It was one of my favorite trips I’ve ever been on. I wandered in parks for hours, ate patatas bravas and paella (which I’ve been dreaming about since my trip to Madrid in November), finished 2 books, went to a transcendent jazz show, got inspired to try jazz flute, had a sunset beach picnic, made a friend in my hostel, admired so much funky architecture, and took things really slowly. I love Spanish culture– people stop to dance in the street when they hear live music, take long lunches, people-watch from sidewalk patios, and socialize late into the night. There is a leisureliness to life, an emphasis on joy and connection over work and productivity.

I have gotten to taste this leisureliness over the last 8 months because I have had the privilege of working on a Lumos project. However, I will soon enough be returning to life in America. I’ll be working lots, taking classes, adjusting to a new city, building community from scratch again, and jumping back into the fast and busy pace that I knew throughout all four years of college. It will probably be jarring. I’ve gotten used to the luxurious ability to be able to stop and smell the roses, to linger in pleasant moments and embrace spontaneity. I’m not delusional enough to believe anyone can simply choose this lifestyle– I know it’s an immense privilege and I’m unbelievably grateful to be able to experience it. However, I do think there are ways I can bring some lessons that I’ve learned and practices I’ve adopted back home with me, so that I can continue to make time for mindful relaxation and observant gratitude even when I’m in the whirlwind of a busy life. Being here has taught me how important that is.