The year was 1997. Like a watershed. Before. And. After. The year was 1997. Something ends and make a beginning possible. The “before” will and shall always be there. Impossible to delete. It’s like when you walk up from the water after a swim – but now, you never will be able to dry. The
Long, thick dark hair. Her waist was so narrow that her husband easily reached around her waist with his hands. She was young, only twenty years old. He was tall and slim, twentyseven years old. You could feel the smell of early autumn. The leaves on the trees had just started to fell. There were
Everything is trancelusent. Try to fix my sight on something but if my eyes stop searching everything will crack. One step. One step forward! Forward! I CAN cycle but my brain has forgot how to do to live the life. It shouldnt be more difficult then cycle when you can cycle. Right! One step. One
When you think. Is it then you exist? Then you ARE…? The word ”should”. You know. The word ”should” swish and roar and even breaks through the head. Swish! I shouldn’t write this. It’s too weird! It’s kind of impossible to talk to someone, about it. Noone should understand. I try to imagine to try
The Mountains are speaking without words You say you can see Me, shoot Me, catch Me But… Can you feel Me? they asks You say you can wander Me, climb Me, conquer Me But… Can you hear Me? they asks The wind the snow, and the storm comes and goes The moon the stars, and
There’s always lot’s of YOU SHOULD… all the time! My soul flies around confused and do not know where to land. An evocative sense. There’s so many thoughts in my mind that it’s difficult to get them in order to print them down. They just jumping or popping around like a bouncing ball! I do
Vill gripa tag i livet, liksom fånga det… men får en sån konstig bild eller känsla i huvudet, i kroppen, att då skulle det knastra sönder. Som en ishinna man lyckats lyfta upp från en vattenpöl. Man ser genom den, en suddig bild av verkligheten på andra sidan. Medan ishinnan smälter och knastrar sönder. …..fotsteg
When… there is things, subjects, you can’t talk about. Things that every time you think about it, it makes you feel unwell. Things that makes you sad. And you long for hitting your head on the wall. When there is things like that. I just want to be a butterfly.
“One of the risks of being quiet is that other people can fill your silence with their own interpretation: You’re bored. You’re depressed. You’re shy. You’re stuck up. You’re judgmental. When others can’t read us, they write their own story—not always one we choose or that’s true to who we are.” Sophia Dembling, The Introvert’s
What is it that makes you all the time no matter what happens in one’s life, to continue to put one foot in front of the other and go, go, go…??? I do wonder. It has become an important and difficult issue for me recently. That question. Obviously it is so that there are some
