Literary Fiction · Poetry · The Light Series
Books about love, attention, and the small ceremonies of everyday life. Set in Bangkok and the Netherlands. Told through two voices.
Explore the books
"The light in this city arrives differently each morning, as though it has been deciding overnight what it wants to show."
What the Light Uncovers
she write like heavy stone / but she live like warm light
Anya, foreword to What the Light Uncovers
if you love someone / it rude to blink?
Anya — oh you
I thought: Oh no. And then, immediately after: Oh yes.
Julia — What the Light Uncovers
structure just chaos with shoes
Julia — A User's Guide to the Light
From the pages
A page from each book. Enough to feel the voices. Not enough to satisfy.
Julia & Anya — Chapter 2
Julia I left for a walk. No plan, no phone, no "back by" time. She found me in a café, halfway through a lukewarm cup, mid-thought. She didn't scold me. She just sat down.
Anya i sit and not talk / she smile like i bring her weather she wait for
Julia Some chapters don't arrive when called. They arrive when they're ready to be kept.
Anya and when they do / you feel like they always here
Anya — two kettles
sunday train / always pull away / too fast
i sit by window / watch amsterdam / become a blur
your smell / still on my coat / a quiet ghost
i try not to breathe / all at once
at home / my toothbrush / stand alone / my tea / taste like wait
i have your key / you have my key / we have two of / everything / that matter
on friday / i pack a bag / like i go on vacation
sometimes / i leave one sock / behind your pillow / a small anchor / to prove i belong here
Julia — Saturday 5 November
Row 27. Middle of the plane, middle of the day, middle of my life maybe. She was already there when I arrived. Shoulders a little too tense for someone just sitting down. She glanced up, not fully, just enough for me to feel it. Then she shifted her bag to make space, as if she'd been waiting for me without knowing it.
I slid into the seat with a polite smile; the kind you give a stranger when you're trying to be normal. My chest, however, had other ideas. It tightened. Like recognition, though of what, I couldn't tell.
What surprised me most wasn't her face. It was the quiet. Not awkward, just alive, like the air between us knew more than we did.
I thought: Oh no. And then, immediately after: Oh yes.
Julia & Anya — Memory 76
Julia He was three years older. Smarter than me. Kinder too. He always made space for me, even when I didn't know I needed it. He died six months after this was taken. Car crash. Someone drunk. Wrong lane. No chance.
Anya oh potato / my heart too small for this / but i try stretch it / to fit you and max / and all light you lose
Julia I don't talk about him often. It's like if I say his name too loud, he disappears a little more. But I wanted you to know. He was the first person who understood me.
Anya now i understand / why sometimes / you love so quiet / but so deep / and why you look at me / like you already miss me
Julia & Anya — Unfolding 6.12
Anya potato / potato / ... / i sit here ok
Julia I don't even know why. It's not one thing. It's everything. And nothing. I just couldn't hold it anymore.
Anya then not hold it
Julia I'm on the kitchen floor.
Anya i know / good floor
Julia I'm a mess.
Anya you not mess / you just full
Anya i think you hold so long / that your body just say / ok / i do it for you now
About
Writing under the pen name Anya & Julia, I write literary fiction, poetry, and books about love and presence. Slow stories told in careful light. My work lives at the intersection of the domestic and the profound: two women, their life together, the way attention changes what we see.
My writing moves between Bangkok and the Netherlands, shaped by the textures and quiet of both. I am drawn to voices that hold contradictions gently, to characters who think in real time, who don't always arrive at answers.
I publish independently via Amazon KDP and write regularly on Substack.
Read the booksThe Universe
she open mouth and room get bigger i not know how she talk and talk and find thing she not look for this not accident she think it accident i not correct her she arrive late to own sentence but arrive always arrive this the part i wait for
as described by Anya
I've been trying to explain Anya to people for years and the closest I've come is this: she says things that shouldn't make sense and then you're lying awake at three in the morning understanding exactly what she meant. She doesn't elaborate. She doesn't need to. There's a particular way she looks at something ordinary, a cup, a window, a word you've used a thousand times, and afterwards you can't look at it the same way. I'm not sure she knows she does it. I think she does.
as described by Julia
Julia and Anya are married and living in Krabi. They appear across all the books, in diary entries, poems, and conversations that don't always reach a conclusion. They are never the same twice, but always themselves.
The series moves from poetry to diary to something harder to name. Each book adds a new layer of their shared world: what they notice, what they say to each other, what they leave unsaid.
You can follow them on Instagram, where they each have their own quiet archive.
The Books
The Light Series — Main
Book I
A Bangkok diary in Julia's voice. Days accumulating into something she didn't expect to feel.
Find on Amazon →
Book II
The next chapter. Coming soon.
Coming soonBook III
The third chapter. In progress.
Coming soonThe User's Guide Subseries
Book I
A guide to love, attention, and the small ceremonies of being alive together.
Find on Amazon →
Book II
Notes for Staying. Coming soon.
Coming soon
Book III
Coming soon.
Coming soonPoetry & Miscellaneous
Book I
A poetry collection by Anya. Love as observation. Tenderness without declaration.
Find on Amazon →Writing
Anya: we write because we not know how to stay quiet
Julia: We write because staying quiet felt like disappearing.
Two voices, one love story. On Substack we write longer pieces. Julia in full sentences that double back on themselves, Anya in verb stems and silences. Sometimes funny. Sometimes the other thing. Always honest.
On Instagram
Julia's quiet archive. Light, interiors, the texture of ordinary days.
Anya's perspective. Spare, observant, unexpectedly precise.
Their shared story. Two voices, one life in Krabi.
Contact
For rights inquiries, press, collaboration, or simply to say something about a book that stayed with you. I read everything and reply when I can.
katiessacredhideaway@gmail.com