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Gerrianne Pennings

1 story every 24 hours | 365 stories written by a 24-year-old

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Day 262 – World Refugee Day

She would sometimes come into my room at 2 am. With two mugs of hot tea. We would snuggle on my bed and she would talk. I listened. Sometimes I didn't understand, I couldn't grasp the things she was telling... Continue Reading →

Day 241 – At home in the world

"Hallo, it's insert name of my grandfather speaking." "Hi opa, it's me, Gerrianne." It's quiet for a few seconds. "Gerrianne. How is that possible? You are so far away." "Well, that's the advantage of modern day technology." The conversation goes on for... Continue Reading →

Day 224 – Lazy saturdays

I like to be productive. Always doing something or planning the next thing. You can call that hard-working, but it also has a bit of perfectionism to it. That's why I am trying to teach myself to not plan stuff... Continue Reading →

Day 221 – Baking therapy

One of my go-to methods to not become stressed is baking. There is nothing better than kneading some dough, cutting apples (and eating half) and pouring love and cinnamon into an apple pie. It reminds me of Sunday mornings after... Continue Reading →

Day 207 – Home away from home

I left home a month ago.  Today I went furniture shopping and piece by piece my new house is becoming a home.  The introvert in me can't wait to give my things a space. Clear out my desk, so I... Continue Reading →

Day 180 to 182 – Lemon tree

It’s weekend. A warm and peaceful Saturday. I wrote a blog post on Day 180, but somehow it disappeared in the draft stage. My head has been too full with all the thoughts and emotions to write something down. But... Continue Reading →

Day 176 + 177 – Always a reason to celebrate

You can look at life in different ways. But you always have a choice. A certain level of freedom. Even in the most difficult times of your life. I'd like to think of myself as a positive person. With always... Continue Reading →

Day 168 + 169 

Friday I ended my blog abruptly, because one of my favourite girls in the world asked if I could play a game with her before her bedtime. As I was writing to myself about forgetting to grasp little moments, I... Continue Reading →

Day 150 – Blame the English dudes with guitars

I miss home. And by home, I mean where I grew up. Apart from a couple months in the fall I haven’t really lived there for five years. That was no problem at all. I have lived in the most extraordinary places during those past five years. I have loved every second of it. Living on my own suits me well. But I have to admit that I really enjoy coming home for a visit and not having to think about laundry or cooking for a little while. Last weekend I spent a bit of time at home again after a month or so. As soon as I stepped into the freshly painted kitchen, dinner was ready and I could just eat along.

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