‘Voice’ is a hard subject. I feel I have no voice to which I can attach a determined form of writing. However, I do notice that my voice, when am writing, tends to be a melancholic one, a serious one and one that is reflective of what it is…
Read MoreI want to write something beautiful, I don’t know what but I hope that I’ll soon know. I believe I like writing because somehow I too want to depict scenes. The problem is that I don’t have much to say. However, I like words so much I…
Read MoreNaturen i det vardagliga
I don’t know what is it about the Swedish nature that somehow always seems to seep in my writing. Language reflects the environment it is said. Presumably my writing betrays this influence. What is it that appeals to me so much in this essence I…
Read MoreThe trees had been planted by some immigrants at the time Alaska belonged to Mother Russia. They were not native to this soil but adapted themselves very well, spreading far and wide across the valley and even proclaimed a natural reserve not so long…
Read MoreThere was only the air left between you and me As the moon glared behind the translucent clouds Inringed by the rainbow of your smile Thinking about you, sucking warmth of your memory Your lips Your smell, Your intoxicating love scent
Read MoreGreg drew sketches of objects his irises picked up ‘outside him’ he says. Carl on the other side of the studio wrote sketches. He used words like puzzle bits and his pencil like a brush. ‘The mind’ he said, ‘is the…
Read MoreI don’t know if it has been done before but since I certainly haven’t seen it done in the English language am giving it a shot. Although I must confess that it worries me that it has been done before. I frankly don’t know and am doing…
Read Moretramontana
Have you ever had a glass of clean, fresh, pure mountain water run your throat all the way, cascading down your ribs? At times the Nordic winds give the same feeling except that these gusts are cool and cold in a caressing manner. The spring heat is…
Read MoreThere was only that one chance. The crowds were thick enough to create a diversion and grab it. The money bag lay idle in the counter, so it would be enough for a fire alarm to cause a small panic, stretch the arm, grab the dough and make a run for the…
Read MoreDreamcatcher
Airs of change blow by the meadows of the threshold Alluring me into its fold I leap forward to rest on its pasture Laying back, I feel them run over me Contemplation slowly takes of me The future, is it worth? Caressing the possibilities of a past long…
Read MoreWestern Zilch
Passively scouring the media Sifting through human remains Am bombarded my eyes shot red Left riddled with half-cooked notions I trod on in ether all teared Through the barbwired wide world web Seeking not knowing what Respite perhaps from the pain Of…
Read MoreWhen the trees started to swoosh with the force of the winds my hair began to be caressed by the gusts of the fresh morning breeze. My neck felt the coolness of the early hours light and I kept walking against the gales and ended up loving the chilly air…
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