This is a book about love. About love that hurts, love that stopped being love a long time ago, love that left traces so deep you will never dig the thorns of it out of your bones. It is about love that shook you to your core and where the aftershocks still have to subside. About love for oneself and love for the world around us. It is about the very center of our universe - about you and me and how together we can create a garden so lush we would call it Eden; or pain so grave it will be passed down for generations. And sometimes, most of the time, actually, it is both.
Helena Winter is an avid reader, overthinker, and poet. With this debut she invites the reader into her tender inner world, into all the loves of her life - past and present - and into the painful and magical moments that come with it. Helena strongly believes in living slowly, in enjoying moments with your eyes closed; she loves the written word more than anything else, and will do a lot of things to get french fries.
Helena lives in Leipzig, Germany, with her partner and some diva plants who think fake-dying is the way to get attention. She is always scribbling down or typing furiously into her phone/laptop, so maybe soon there will be something else of hers you can enjoy.
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