Welcome to QuietWild Cups.
Here, you can gift me a small moment —
a tea, a flask, or a thermos full of wildness.
Each offering helps me continue writing, listening,
and sharing from a slower, deeper place.
Thank you for your presence on this journey.
I write, paint and translate. I create and hold creative spaces — for words, for images, and for people.
After years of international work, I’ve chosen a slower life devoted to creating beauty, truth, and connection. I continue writing, translating, and shaping a world where language can breathe.
I’m originally from Estonia. Life carried me to Finland, and I now travel regularly to Turkey — where my creativity flows most freely. The soft climate is kinder to my body than the harsh Northern winds, and it allows me to rest, move, and create with ease.
Many of the images behind my texts are painted by me — and some, gently shaped with the help of AI.
Thank you for being here.
You are welcome to support my work with a small gift — a cup of tea, a moment of quiet, or a warm sign that my words have reached you.
A short story behind the video “Lapsed maalivad” (Children painting)
This moment is from one of the wild creative spaces I hold in Turkey — where children come to paint, play, and simply be.
I believe in places where creativity grows freely, like wildflowers.
These glimpses of art, color, and connection are part of the world behind my writing — full of rhythm, aliveness, and shared wonder.
In the beginning, there were ten children at once — all painting, all talking, all gloriously alive.
I didn’t understand Turkish then, so it didn’t matter how loudly they spoke.
It was wild. And it was wonderful.
But I was recovering from burnout.
And the wildness — the volume, the chaos — was sometimes too much.
Then one day, someone gave me a small crocheted dog.
It became our new rule: only the child holding the dog could speak.
The children loved it.
They began to line up patiently, waiting for their turn to talk.
Even those who had nothing to say stood quietly in line… until their moment came.
And when it did, they would simply look at me and say:
“Seni seviyorum, Mari.”
(I love you, Mari.)
