…filled with light of promise lure spiders to enter wherever in the tropical summer heat.
Do their little hearts bolt hard from adrenaline and horror when I go on my nightly spider hunts in my bedroom, I wonder.
Then they are dead; I’m alive and I rest my soul in the deep, blissful sleep that belongs only to the guilty.
…encapsulate a good summer for winter use?
…dear grumpy old bastard, seems genuinely happy.
This makes me happy.
…feminism a big thanks for the joy of luggage on wheels. But it makes sense!
“Far more women began to travel alone on business trips. The fate of the no-wheels suitcase was sealed.”
Ian Jack in The Guardian, Saturday 19th of July, 2014.
…är längre bort, eller närmare, än ett val.
Everything is not beautiful.
Is this as far south as you can get?
…between being me and getting along with life and to belong to this “society” always a freakin’ compromise.
Well, I’ll go with my gut feeling and I couldn’t care less if you hate that.
A must to remember and true words by Anonymous:
“It could be worse. Things could make sense.”
August Strindberg i förordet till “Ett drömspel”.
…glassbilen och tänkte i minst två sekunder: “Det är kyrkklockorna; alltså begravning igen.”
Det säger allt ni behöver veta om mig, Miss Memento Mori.