WOO Worlds is calling and the wind chart is already living rent-free in my head. Can't sit still, can't be bothered to put real clothes on — dare you to tell me to settle down.
WOO Worlds is calling and the wind chart is already living rent-free in my head. Can't sit still, can't be bothered to put real clothes on — dare you to tell me to settle down.
The Fortaleza downwind is close enough to taste and training left me with nothing on but the shorts I can't be bothered to peel off. Tell me you'd keep your hands to yourself if you walked in right now.
Booked the flight to Brazil and my body went straight back into training mode without asking me first. Tell me you'd be able to keep up.
Three weeks away and the tomato plants somehow survived without me — bare feet in the dirt, trying to remember what stillness feels like. Tell me what you'd grow if this garden was yours.
The Foilwave finals just ended and my body hasn't figured out it's over yet. This little rental room in Klitmøller isn't big enough for all this energy — tell me you'd help me burn it off.
The whole beach packed up and left and I'm still here in the van with nothing on but sand. Dare you to knock.
Retro surfboards on the wall, reggae shaking the floorboards, and I'm dancing in a bikini top I found at a thrift shop this morning. Tell me you'd keep up.
Cold Hawaii starts tomorrow and Klitmøller is already pumping head-high swell. My board bag's been open on the floor for an hour and I've packed exactly one hoodie. Tell me you'd be brave enough to come with me.
Back at the piano and my fingers still know every note — it's the rest of me that's still catching up. Tell me what you'd want to hear.
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10 Bilder
The only clean thing left in my bag after Sylt was this white tank top, and even that didn't survive the night. Ten photos and a video of me peeling out of every last layer — want to see what you missed?