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.
Tag Archives: writing
Favourite pinterest inspiration as of lately
Zambia Travel Diary – Day 5
2015.09.07 11.36 It’s easier for me to feel alone here because I don’t understand. It’s foolish, maybe, of me to look at people and think I know them through my first judgemental presumptions. But I do. And usually they’re close to me. Most people I see, I see a lot, and I like to imagine I solve them like puzzles even though maybe I don’t. Here I can’t even pretend. I look at people and my mind doesn’t trick me into believing I know what’s inside their heads when they look at me. I know that we’re similar all over the world, humans with sparkling nerve-endings and weird theories, but cultures still manage to change us until we don’t recognise each other. Myself as much as anyone else. I wish I could be here long enough to learn how they think, and that we could look the same and erase any visible distance.
12.00 My book is so good. The Ocean at The End of The Lane by Neil Gaiman. Like daang, it might be one of the best ones I’ve ever read.
22.16 The streets are different here. If you were to drive to the sister of the woman my uncle’s marrying, it’s a right left right left, and you pass by kids walking around in school uniforms, people selling fruits and marble columns. And I found a nice book store today, in one of the slightly fancy shopping malls. Self help book after self help book and tons about business and career, but they had some fiction too (That’s what you need, learn to see from that, learn to see from that).
(2015.09.08 00.04 I just finished my book, The Ocean at The End of The Lane by Neil Gaiman. I think it’s one of my favourites. It’s small in a way, not high and mighty, bigger on the inside. Not bound by logic in a way that’s inspiring, and magic seeping through every letter into my heart.)
The colours of my autumn
Taking a break from the Zambia Travel Diary to share some pictures of this autumn life I flew (blew) into.
My favourite thing about autumn is the air and the sky.
Zambia travel diary – Day 4
(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!
Zambia Travel diary – day 2
2015.09.03 10.55 (Technically, even though my understanding of time is a blurry mess by this point. We ate lunch at 1 am). Kenya airspace. This journey has been a journey. Because I love travelling, I really do, but there is a point where your body feels so weird from lack of sleep mixed with not being able to go anywhere that makes me itch. I shouldn’t complain though. We just flew by Kilimanjaro, life’s pretty good. A weird thing I’ve thought about though: It feels like I’m not leaving anything at home. Some things that would be a bit heavy of course, my books and creative stuff, but everything I use on a daily basis I’ve brought with me. Apart from my bed (which I’m regretting). But I could live like this. I could. From a bag with my favourite clothes. Laptop and camera and notebook. I could.
Streets of Lusaka
20.05. Lusaka. It feels like it’s the middle of the night. I’m sorry for my ungratefulness. For being spoiled. For intending to make all this about me. It’s difficult to be so far away from your comfort zone, but I know that I need it. Let me grow from it. I thank God for showing me people beyond the ones who think just like me.
Zambia Travel Diary – Intro
2015.09.22 I’m writing this on an airplane that has just entered Swedish airspace on my way home from Zambia, Africa, where I’ve spent the past three weeks without any internet or TV. What does one do on those evenings in a land where the sun consistently sets between 18-19 and you can’t walk out by yourself in the darkness? Not a question my generation is great at answering (though still can answer better than many people freakin’ think). So I read a lot and as a natural consequence wrote a lot and it turned into some sort of travel diary, and during the next month or so I’ll be publishing it here, every now and then. You’ll be able to find it under the tag Zambia travel diary (if you were to lose it) and I really hope you enjoy!
Sneak peek:
Radio Silence
I’m writing this while eating breakfast, since I overslept slightly this morning. And in about an hour I leave for the airport and go to Africa. Arrrgghh, it’s raining and like 12 degrees but tomorrow I’ll be in Zambia!!!
So obviously I can’t blog when I’m there. I think at least, because there will barely be any internet. Meaning this site won’t be updated for about three weeks, so this is a short goodbye I suppose. See ya soon! 
Lack of school
For the first time in my life I don’t start school in the autumn. It’s weird, like one summer I just quit and didn’t come back. I can’t decide if that means my summer holiday is nonexistent – because I don’t have anything to take vacation from – or if it’s eternal. I would write more, but for some reason the words are running away from me. My thoughts want to stay in my head, or maybe I don’t know what I think. I’m scared, anyway. Terrified of the future, and whenever I tell someone my age, they say that they are too. That only sort of helps. I suppose the problem is that we don’t have any excuses left. We’re not stuck anymore. But we are. Stuck in our heads and stuck in the realisation that you need money for everything. Stuck in believing money is the necessary-iest. I don’t really know where to go, and all my energy goes to convincing myself that’s okay.
late summer
I am so young and I’m so tired. Give me light and now. I can’t bear with future anymore.
(Not as happy as I should be, but life keeps being beautiful anyways so I’m trying to wake up and appreciate it)
eirians 