Charlotte “Lotte” Vale
@espressoprose.bsky.social
A place where words meet wonder. I write a little, read a little more, and drink a lot of coffee—fueling musings on life, stories, and everything in between. Sip, dream, and linger awhile.
All photos and writings are my own unless I state otherwise.
All photos and writings are my own unless I state otherwise.
And yet,
I go on.
Not always with grace,
but with the determined softness
of someone who has learned
that even sorrow must be cradled,
not conquered.
So when you ask how I am,
know this:
I am a woman walking through weather.
I am made of mist and breath and remembering.
I am here.
I go on.
Not always with grace,
but with the determined softness
of someone who has learned
that even sorrow must be cradled,
not conquered.
So when you ask how I am,
know this:
I am a woman walking through weather.
I am made of mist and breath and remembering.
I am here.
November 26, 2025 at 5:06 AM
And yet,
I go on.
Not always with grace,
but with the determined softness
of someone who has learned
that even sorrow must be cradled,
not conquered.
So when you ask how I am,
know this:
I am a woman walking through weather.
I am made of mist and breath and remembering.
I am here.
I go on.
Not always with grace,
but with the determined softness
of someone who has learned
that even sorrow must be cradled,
not conquered.
So when you ask how I am,
know this:
I am a woman walking through weather.
I am made of mist and breath and remembering.
I am here.
Sometimes beauty waits for you on the familiar path,
the one you barely think about,
quiet, unassuming, present.
It isn’t reserved for rarity.
It’s here, in the soft scatter of leaves,
in the gold hush of the season,
reminding you that wonder has never been hiding,
only waiting to be seen.
the one you barely think about,
quiet, unassuming, present.
It isn’t reserved for rarity.
It’s here, in the soft scatter of leaves,
in the gold hush of the season,
reminding you that wonder has never been hiding,
only waiting to be seen.
November 26, 2025 at 3:27 AM
Sometimes beauty waits for you on the familiar path,
the one you barely think about,
quiet, unassuming, present.
It isn’t reserved for rarity.
It’s here, in the soft scatter of leaves,
in the gold hush of the season,
reminding you that wonder has never been hiding,
only waiting to be seen.
the one you barely think about,
quiet, unassuming, present.
It isn’t reserved for rarity.
It’s here, in the soft scatter of leaves,
in the gold hush of the season,
reminding you that wonder has never been hiding,
only waiting to be seen.
Reposted by Charlotte “Lotte” Vale
I've heard worse ideas.👀
Marc Elias for AG 🇺🇸
November 25, 2025 at 12:04 AM
I've heard worse ideas.👀
Reposted by Charlotte “Lotte” Vale
This is heartbreaking and if you're human this should piss you the fuck off — regardless of where you stand in the spectrum of politics.
#Standup #northcarolina
#Standup #northcarolina
November 25, 2025 at 4:00 AM
This is heartbreaking and if you're human this should piss you the fuck off — regardless of where you stand in the spectrum of politics.
#Standup #northcarolina
#Standup #northcarolina
You were the whisper in a
house I thought empty,
the echo that lingered in
corners I dared not enter.
And once I listened, there was no forgetting,
no quiet, no peace, only the pull of you. 💛🖤
house I thought empty,
the echo that lingered in
corners I dared not enter.
And once I listened, there was no forgetting,
no quiet, no peace, only the pull of you. 💛🖤
November 25, 2025 at 2:51 AM
You were the whisper in a
house I thought empty,
the echo that lingered in
corners I dared not enter.
And once I listened, there was no forgetting,
no quiet, no peace, only the pull of you. 💛🖤
house I thought empty,
the echo that lingered in
corners I dared not enter.
And once I listened, there was no forgetting,
no quiet, no peace, only the pull of you. 💛🖤
I let my fingers work the yarn,
slow loops and twists,
the rhythm of stitch and breath,
the ache and warmth tangled together,
and in the soft weight of wool,
I find a piece of me returning,
folded into the season,
folded back into myself.
Knit of the day.
#knitting #blueskyKnits
slow loops and twists,
the rhythm of stitch and breath,
the ache and warmth tangled together,
and in the soft weight of wool,
I find a piece of me returning,
folded into the season,
folded back into myself.
Knit of the day.
#knitting #blueskyKnits
November 25, 2025 at 1:48 AM
I let my fingers work the yarn,
slow loops and twists,
the rhythm of stitch and breath,
the ache and warmth tangled together,
and in the soft weight of wool,
I find a piece of me returning,
folded into the season,
folded back into myself.
Knit of the day.
#knitting #blueskyKnits
slow loops and twists,
the rhythm of stitch and breath,
the ache and warmth tangled together,
and in the soft weight of wool,
I find a piece of me returning,
folded into the season,
folded back into myself.
Knit of the day.
#knitting #blueskyKnits
Reposted by Charlotte “Lotte” Vale
One down, 218 to go.
November 22, 2025 at 1:43 AM
One down, 218 to go.
Saturday moves like honey.
Fall leans close, whispering in amber tones.
The scent of pancakes wanders through the room
as I cradle my coffee, steady and warm.
Fall leans close, whispering in amber tones.
The scent of pancakes wanders through the room
as I cradle my coffee, steady and warm.
November 22, 2025 at 6:22 PM
Saturday moves like honey.
Fall leans close, whispering in amber tones.
The scent of pancakes wanders through the room
as I cradle my coffee, steady and warm.
Fall leans close, whispering in amber tones.
The scent of pancakes wanders through the room
as I cradle my coffee, steady and warm.
Reposted by Charlotte “Lotte” Vale
The President of the United States just called for Democratic members of Congress to be executed. "HANG THEM", he posted.
If you're a person of influence in this country and you haven't picked a side, maybe now would be the time to pick a fucking side.
If you're a person of influence in this country and you haven't picked a side, maybe now would be the time to pick a fucking side.
November 20, 2025 at 4:15 PM
The President of the United States just called for Democratic members of Congress to be executed. "HANG THEM", he posted.
If you're a person of influence in this country and you haven't picked a side, maybe now would be the time to pick a fucking side.
If you're a person of influence in this country and you haven't picked a side, maybe now would be the time to pick a fucking side.
And then, after the wreckage, you find the ones who stay. The ones whose love is fire you can walk into without fear, whose presence rearranges the broken pieces of you into something whole.
Those whose touch, whose laughter, whose quiet constancy is a home you never knew existed.
💛🖤
Those whose touch, whose laughter, whose quiet constancy is a home you never knew existed.
💛🖤
November 19, 2025 at 8:27 PM
And then, after the wreckage, you find the ones who stay. The ones whose love is fire you can walk into without fear, whose presence rearranges the broken pieces of you into something whole.
Those whose touch, whose laughter, whose quiet constancy is a home you never knew existed.
💛🖤
Those whose touch, whose laughter, whose quiet constancy is a home you never knew existed.
💛🖤
Reposted by Charlotte “Lotte” Vale
Every day my mailbox is empty. That is why waiting for the mail is a sad time for me.
November 18, 2025 at 8:37 AM
Every day my mailbox is empty. That is why waiting for the mail is a sad time for me.
These red leaves ignite the branch from beneath,
small flames licking at the hem of the year.
There is no spectacle here.
Only the kind of beauty that reveals itself slowly
a bright, trembling defiance
against the season’s gentle fade.
small flames licking at the hem of the year.
There is no spectacle here.
Only the kind of beauty that reveals itself slowly
a bright, trembling defiance
against the season’s gentle fade.
November 18, 2025 at 7:44 AM
These red leaves ignite the branch from beneath,
small flames licking at the hem of the year.
There is no spectacle here.
Only the kind of beauty that reveals itself slowly
a bright, trembling defiance
against the season’s gentle fade.
small flames licking at the hem of the year.
There is no spectacle here.
Only the kind of beauty that reveals itself slowly
a bright, trembling defiance
against the season’s gentle fade.
I am not composed
I am composition
written in cracked ink
scrawled in margins
smeared by heat and salt and all the unsentences
I have swallowed to stay worthy.
But tonight I write
Unleash it all
I am reminded
I am always worthy. 💛🖤
I am composition
written in cracked ink
scrawled in margins
smeared by heat and salt and all the unsentences
I have swallowed to stay worthy.
But tonight I write
Unleash it all
I am reminded
I am always worthy. 💛🖤
November 17, 2025 at 7:29 AM
I am not composed
I am composition
written in cracked ink
scrawled in margins
smeared by heat and salt and all the unsentences
I have swallowed to stay worthy.
But tonight I write
Unleash it all
I am reminded
I am always worthy. 💛🖤
I am composition
written in cracked ink
scrawled in margins
smeared by heat and salt and all the unsentences
I have swallowed to stay worthy.
But tonight I write
Unleash it all
I am reminded
I am always worthy. 💛🖤
Reposted by Charlotte “Lotte” Vale
NEW: Epstein survivors release the most powerful PSA I have ever seen.
Make this go viral so every member of the House of Representatives sees it.
Make this go viral so every member of the House of Representatives sees it.
November 16, 2025 at 11:43 PM
NEW: Epstein survivors release the most powerful PSA I have ever seen.
Make this go viral so every member of the House of Representatives sees it.
Make this go viral so every member of the House of Representatives sees it.
Or just stay here a little longer,
where the world first paused
and let love begin.
where the world first paused
and let love begin.
November 15, 2025 at 8:53 PM
Or just stay here a little longer,
where the world first paused
and let love begin.
where the world first paused
and let love begin.
‘Verloren im Dunst‘
November 15, 2025 at 7:35 PM
‘Verloren im Dunst‘
Reposted by Charlotte “Lotte” Vale
Rehearsing the astronauts’ dance for our Christmas play with a space theme. I told them to take a step forward, then added. ‘Just a small one, not a giant leap.’ and NONE of them got it. I’m wasted on six year olds. 😤 #teachers
November 13, 2025 at 6:32 PM
Rehearsing the astronauts’ dance for our Christmas play with a space theme. I told them to take a step forward, then added. ‘Just a small one, not a giant leap.’ and NONE of them got it. I’m wasted on six year olds. 😤 #teachers
Not every binding is a burden. Some hold me exactly where I need to be. 💛🖤
November 14, 2025 at 12:46 AM
Not every binding is a burden. Some hold me exactly where I need to be. 💛🖤
You learn to survive the fire.
You learn to breathe through the rain.
You learn that love can be cruel and beautiful in the same heartbeat.
Some loves leave ruins.
Some loves leave homes.
And the heart learns,
after all the ash,
after all the water,
to recognize the warmth worth stepping into. 💛🖤
You learn to breathe through the rain.
You learn that love can be cruel and beautiful in the same heartbeat.
Some loves leave ruins.
Some loves leave homes.
And the heart learns,
after all the ash,
after all the water,
to recognize the warmth worth stepping into. 💛🖤
November 13, 2025 at 6:44 AM
You learn to survive the fire.
You learn to breathe through the rain.
You learn that love can be cruel and beautiful in the same heartbeat.
Some loves leave ruins.
Some loves leave homes.
And the heart learns,
after all the ash,
after all the water,
to recognize the warmth worth stepping into. 💛🖤
You learn to breathe through the rain.
You learn that love can be cruel and beautiful in the same heartbeat.
Some loves leave ruins.
Some loves leave homes.
And the heart learns,
after all the ash,
after all the water,
to recognize the warmth worth stepping into. 💛🖤
The branches caught fire in silence,
not from heat but from memory.
A thousand small flames
breathing against the dark,
as if the stars had chosen this tree
to finish what they started.
not from heat but from memory.
A thousand small flames
breathing against the dark,
as if the stars had chosen this tree
to finish what they started.
November 12, 2025 at 8:37 PM
The branches caught fire in silence,
not from heat but from memory.
A thousand small flames
breathing against the dark,
as if the stars had chosen this tree
to finish what they started.
not from heat but from memory.
A thousand small flames
breathing against the dark,
as if the stars had chosen this tree
to finish what they started.
that to endure is to change,
and to love the world
is to trust,
and to let it go, again and again.
and to love the world
is to trust,
and to let it go, again and again.
November 12, 2025 at 3:03 AM
that to endure is to change,
and to love the world
is to trust,
and to let it go, again and again.
and to love the world
is to trust,
and to let it go, again and again.