~Summer~ evenings

Summer always seems to arrive so slowly, but then suddenly the flowers are blooming and it’s 8 in the evening with the sun still in the sky.


♥(and observe on the couch the big rocket shaped balloon that my friend got me for my birthday)♥


Snapshot of Nürnberg

It was raining softly. A girl with a lip piercing and two rolled up sleeping mats sticking out of her backpack stepped out from under the cover of the station and into the grey sky. A young man rolled a suitcase next to her and an elderly couple stood waiting on the other side of the road, decked out in umbrellas and plastic ponchos over their functional jackets. A bus whizzed by. Birds flew high. And for a second the rain took a breather – letting only mist cover us – as we stepped out from the overhang we had covered under. The sky was open. Grey but bright and warm with dots of birds covering it, rainwater dripping down the spires of old church towers. Slow and eternal as the traffic lights turned green.


My empty cup smells like salt water, and I leave Florida soon but I haven’t written about the ocean yet. My thoughts drown before I even manage to get my feet wet. So I remind myself of the tides that have been promised me, I don’t chase the waves but are lifted by the power of the moon.


It’s a lie that to create something beautiful, some part in you has to be broken. But I don’t know that. Because I have a twisted perception of what beauty is.

That’s easier, that’s smaller, and sadness fits. It fills my heart up from the inside instead of existing around it the way my happiness does. It’s small enough for me to hold its definition in my hands even though I don’t know what it is.


(I just finished reading Love Letters to the Dead by Ava Dellaira and it was small but quite deep and I fell down)

The Storm

I walked through a storm today. It’s sweeping over this dark country, we call it Helga like the girls name, like the old Swedish word for holy, like the songs sung at christmas and it makes the trees feel tall and loud. The sky throws things at us. There’s inspiration making my veins itchy. Why? Why now, when I’ve had a self absorbed no thoughts – all thoughts day. When I’ve forgotten to tell myself I’m brave ages ago. I walked through a storm today and it TORE THE BREATH FRom my lungs and I only ever scream when I’m silent.