I like taking me out on a thin film of ice without being able to see what’s underneath, and I know that the sun shines from a clear blue sky ought to warm up but it doesn’t and if I think another thought, the ice will crack. Laglöst land (Nordman) Som en varg I
One moment in space can be a whole life or just one moment thousand light-years long or one thousandth of a second short One word in space can be a whole encyclopedia or just one word thousand light-years long or one thousandth of a second short One thought in space can be a
A well-shaped girl. Ten toes, ten fingers. She fills her lungs with air and let the world know that now she is here. At least in the small town Avesta. The mother and father give her the name Mai Elisabeth Ingrid. If Ingrid that day would have been possible to choose if she really should
Marsch 16, 1965. You can imagine that the snow just has melted away, or maybe there is some snow heaps left here and there as traces of the snow plow. A gentle spring rain enhances the aromas and one can hear birds chirping among the birch trunks. It drops from the icicles that not have
Allting börjar på något vis någonstans vid någon tidpunkt. Det handlar bara om vad det är man vet, om allting. Det börjar någon gång men det tar aldrig slut. För vem skulle bestämma när och hur det tar slut? Hela tiden händer det något nytt. Något ytterligare. Som förlänger. Som utökar. Som tillför. När jag
I think that if God exist, he also got an iPhone. I mean, he must have lot’s of people that he must connect with, all the time. So, I call: – Mr God, are you there? Can we chat for some minute? If you not are too busy at this moment? Because I’ve lot’s of
I’m certainly not an ateist. But I have difficulty seeing the benefits of God. I mean, you don’t know, if God exist. The neighbour Bertil though, he exist (just as an example). Let’s play with a thought that you pray to Bertil, doesn’t that fill exactly the same function as if you pray to God?
A man in a canoe. The man isn’t anyone. The man in the canoe is my grandfather. It could have been just a picture, any picture, of my grandfather. But this is not any picture. I’ve always, in my whole life, wondered where my love to wood and handicraft comes from. Noone else in my
In the middle of the night. In the middle of the summer. In the middle of the year of 1968. A little girl, screamed and screamed. Outside, thunder rumbled and flashed, not for the first time that summer. Every time the thunder rumbled and flashed, the little girl screamed. If it was in the middle
