(The sun falls into our garden at an angle, and it flows over the dead tree with five perfect spiderwebs in its corners. Threads grow from the ground up into it, my mum put them there for flowers to follow. They will continue next stummer. Right here, the sky is half blue, half dark gray. Water rests on the grass from ten minutes ago. It’s green still, and for now all golden, in this last rest of summer. For goodbye, go down with it.)
This is actually goodbye because I’m going to America again. Like, tomorrow. I’ll try to write there too, but here’s something I’ve discovered: This blog is about swedish summer, and about this cabin in the midst of it. If I continue, I need to figure out how to make it about the rest of my life. Possibly by figuring out the rest of my life. We’ll see.
Hugs from me.
eirians 