A documentation of the sky. This is my new diary, a documentation of different skies – although it’s the same sky, I suppose, like Monet’s water lilies. Painted in different seasons and different light.
I want to put them in a little case because they’re becoming too many, carry them with me. Maybe put them in a journal, one on each page.
(We’ll see)
3 Photos from the past week.
Pink food
(If you fry literally anything at the same time as beets, it turns pink. You can make pink scrambled eggs, it’s great. They used beets to dye fabric back in the day, didn’t they? I keep wondering if it would work on my hair.)
Pink baby
(It’s my friends baby, we didn’t steal it. It’s the cutest baby though, 10/10 would steal.)
Pink painting
(I’m trying to paint some hands and flowers and stuff, but only one hand turned out good, so now I’m trying to restructure everything to focus on that one.)
💗
It’s the night of the darkest day of the year. 21st of December, the winter solstice. In the very north of Sweden the sun didn’t even rise above the horizon, which I guess it did here even though I haven’t really seen it in a while.
On a lighter note I highlighted my hair today. I bet you could make something poetic out of that, but I’m not really going to. Looks great though. Even better without the tin foil, I promise.
Good niight.
‘Things in my bag’ or as I like to call it now; ‘(some of the) things that fell in the ocean.’ Also a picture of planet Earth.
About flowers and painting portraits of street kids.
2015.09.16 16.19 Lord, give me patience. I’m getting bad again. My head. My patience. My ability to deal with myself when it comes to control of creativity and the irritation of people that irritate me, I’m torn between believing the fault is not in them and not caring because I’m still annoyed.
16.53 I’ve written about this on this blog before, but a few years ago I realised that moving away from home probably wouldn’t make me sad. It escalated to the point where I thought not moving away from home would make me sad. Now it’s easier, travelling is better because obviously I’m not as focused on my family. But then comes the normality of it. Or not really normality I suppose, but when the amazing strangeness of travelling becomes everyday life. My mind falls back into my body, and I’m conflicted again. I spend more time being annoyed, or doubting myself. But I don’t think I’m the type of person that by force of restlessness never will be able to settle down. Maybe it’s just that I need the passionate friendships of youth, and to be more with people who grow with me, are the same size, look at me and see me.
21.30 I finished ‘I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings’ by Maya Angelou. It was amazing. It’s the first part of her autobiography, and I find it difficult to believe that a woman can have experienced all that in her early years, while I also understand that obviously that woman can become nothing less than extraordinary.
21.45 Sometimes I wonder what things humans would be if we didn’t die every night. I helped my brother with his english homework a few hours ago and while explaining the Swedish translation of ‘subconsciously’ the word suddenly lost all it’s meaning to me. You know the way words do sometimes, but I realised it only happens in night time. In the morning language is fresh. New. It grows old, like we do, both over spans of decades and periods of hours. It’s such an amazing thing, such a well thought out plan, to give us this rest so that during the day we can actually be awake and ride our roller coasters of up and down, because we forget anyway so why does it matter. (But some nights I walk above my mind, thread the thread binding awareness and hours, and sometimes I know, sometimes I almost know, before it slips away from me, forever, again and again.) (We’re not kids anymore and we don’t have the hope of a million more nights.)
22.14 Lusaka is such a quiet city. You hear the dogs bark. Birds sing in the morning and cicadas after sunset, but the sound of cars only passes by every few minutes and voices are rare, music and laughter not often close by. It sings a quiet song. (goodnight)
22.27 You have a nice garden, right Father? Take me anywhere on this earth, but I know you have a nice garden. (The music I listen to sounds like water drops falling off leaves).
2015.09.14 22.12 “You want to stay here forever?” Our safari guide said while we took a break to stretch our legs by the Zambezi river. He was really sweet, polite in a way you could be to friends and not “rich white people” and he knew everything about the animals and different uses of plants. Strong cheekbones and kind eyes, the type of person who seems quiet, regardless of how much they speak. I answered “What?” and he repeated the question.
“Yes. Yes I do.” I said but followed him and my family back to the car.
There was something about the temperature. I’ve been spending so much time getting too hot and cooling down, sweating and freezing, that the perfect weather soothes my skin and mind in waves of wind. We sat by the Zambezi river, where it’s still calm and not rushing down the Victoria falls, and I, someone who sleeps with three covers in the middle of summer, wasn’t freezing. My body totally relaxed. The definition of warm wind was blowing past and the late afternoon sun managed to keep the temperature from getting too high while still not making a single chill rung through me.
We continued on our safari after that, took pictures of elephants and impalas. And here I’d been thinking I would need to borrow my mom’s camera, since my 50 mm lens has no zoom whatsoever, but it turns out zoom wasn’t needed.
We had to leave the car and walk to the part of the park where the rhinos where.
Also I stole a part of a roof and put it in my notebook
A lot of trees are very short since the elephants break them down with their trunks.
Earlier in the day we went to the Victoria falls as well, but we’re going back tomorrow so I’ll have even more to show you! Goodnight.
(2015.09.05 I’ve got the world’s greatest grandma. She says she doesn’t care what colour her hair is so when I added some pink to mine she said I could add some to hers too. I put it at the back of her neck, because she suggested a pink fringe but I think it would’ve made mum a bit mad.
(Okay, so apparently that’s all I wrote that day))
My grandmother. This picture doesn’t look like her. Not like her personality, the way good photos sometimes do, but it looks like someone so I like it anyways.
2015.09.06 I’ve lost count of the days. Or the energy to count them. Maybe that says more. I’m in that moment of wanting to express everything, because what even is my life, at the same time as I’m living a lot, thank you very much, so I’m not sure as to when I should find time for that expression.
Today I went to a kitchen party. It was different. Try to imagine the most stereotypical traditional african party, but then mixed with I don’t even know. It’s one of the ceremonies leading up to the wedding and the woman getting married is brought in covered with a chitenge (piece of fabric in bright patterns that they make clothes of or just use as it is around the waist) and then there was something about the groom being led in to uncover her and give her gifts, but they did it in a bit of a strange order. No one knew exactly what was happening except for the older woman who led everything and walked ahead of us while dancing (shaking her booty). Everyone simply did what she said while everyone cheered and they played loud music on the drums and sang. We laughed a lot.
Where I sleep and/or hide from insects
Lizard next to the shower, they’re everywhere but since they don’t crawl into beds or suitcases they’re my homies anyway.
Ego pic before the kitchen party
Warm nights (but wrapped in a chitenge anyways). Night!
The weather is changing and my world with it, there’s something about the light that makes me productive. And today my only homework is to spend one hour reading Jane Eyre, worse things have happened and I think I might climb up my roof and read there until the sun starts to set.
Had a freakin’ math test today that went okay, one lesson more and then the school day was over so we went to the gym for a while. Everyone at our school got a free entrance to a gym nearby for two weeks so that’s awesome. And then we went out and ate, my friend’s birthday is tomorrow so we had ordered a cake with a photo of her that she absolutely hate on, day couldn’t have gone better. And now I’ll have some time to do things I actually enjoy. I’m gonna start with running around barefoot, man I missed that.
So anyway, here are some pictures from yesterday, sitting on my roof and studying for that freakin’ math test.
I’ve grown up believing that cross country skiing is the worlds most popular sport. That and perhaps football. As time went on I realized it’s kind of not, but to me it still is. Having a family and tons of friends that love it too might have something to do with that. My first time skiing was when I was two or three years old and maybe somehow I was hooked, all I know is that it is one of the things I’ve stuck with, and to me it’s one of the definitions of winter. Both the actual skiing and the weekend mornings when you eat breakfast in front of the TV, watching the champions and then my dad in the end, his screaming and cheering might be even more entertaining than the actual sport at times and me and my sister always laughed at him. Well, we still do.
So anyway, we saw the finale of the world cup live, it being in Sweden, Falun, where my aunt lives, and it was such a good day I thought I should share some pictures. I didn’t take too many though, I kind of have this problem with not actually experiencing things when I see them through a camera lens, so sometimes I let things go undocumented. Still, with my camera around my neck I can never resist it completely.
eirians 
