Kategori: Small pieces of history.

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

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

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