The Quiet Calendar feels like a month of someone’s inner world laid bare. It traces day by day how a woman crawls out of a long, damaging entanglement and slowly learns to hear her own voice again. The book moves through grief, shock, anger, clarity, and finally something like peace. Each poem marks a moment in time. Some are sharp. Others feel like exhaling after holding your breath. The drawings scattered through the book soften the blows a bit. They echo the mood of the poems and give everything a floating, ghostly feel. The whole collection reads like a journal.

As I moved through the pages, I felt myself pulled into her emotional rhythm. The writing is simple on the surface, but it hits hard because of that simplicity. Some lines shocked me with how plainly they revealed the manipulation she endured. Other lines made me root for her like a friend who keeps getting stronger each day without realizing it. The pacing is tight. The shift from longing to clarity feels natural. It never rushes.

I also loved the way the book explores self-return. Many poems break open the idea that healing is not one big moment. It is a series of tiny decisions that build you back up. I felt myself smiling at her small victories. A cup of coffee alone. A morning without checking the phone. A song that once hurt now simply playing in the background. These little moments felt huge and real and made me weirdly proud of her. The writing carries a lot of tenderness, even when it stings, and I kept thinking about how many people will see bits of their own story in hers. The art deepened that feeling. The cracked hourglass. The key with wings. The feather.

The book is honest about the messy parts of leaving someone who should never have been held so tightly. It is gentle about the slow return to a life that was waiting the whole time. I would recommend The Quiet Calendar to anyone who is coming out of a breakup that left them confused, guilty, or hollow. It is soft, real, and full of small truths.

Pages: 112 | ISBN: 9798218838591