Katrineholm — One should be grateful. Grateful for the late evening sunshine, yellow and lovingly caressing, for the sough in the trees, that soft, dancing sound of shivering aspen leaves, for voices and laughter in the background, they carry so well over water, Grateful for times like these. I’m sitting in a rickety, weathered chair, on a jetty so loosely tethered that every movement in this little lake cre...
Katrineholm — I’m sitting on the old balcony, underneath the honeysuckle I planted a couple of months ago. The heavy fragrance is in my nostrils. I’ve moved since last time I wrote here, back to my hometown. No one...
Katrineholm — Isn’t it fitting that the last words that you wanted to be profound, couldn’t really be found at all? That they were bits and pieces of something potentially meaningful flitting about your brain, just...
A last sketch
Can you hear it?
I won't say goodbye
From this place
Times like these
Almost too late
What do we say when we know our days are numbered?