söndag 25 januari 2015

The Prince

I look at you and I see a future. It is made of adventure and skydiving and motorcycles and mountains to conquer. I look at you and I see a man. He doesn't like to fight, but he knows that walking away is not always and option. I see frailty and scars, but determination and bravery supersedes the fear. I see an open mind and self-respect and a sturdy frame that remains balanced. I look at you as you pull on my heart strings with your words; your broad, handsome face, your hands waving about as you explain scientific theories to me.

And I turn into gold.

Elin Ruth Sigvardsson – When I Leave

söndag 4 januari 2015

New Year

From across the bar - I watch him. He carries our drinks and twinkles at me. 

"Here you go, darling." 

And with those words he fades away. I still see him, but I am no longer there. I look into his eyes, but they are slanting and green now and his eyebrows are darker, thicker, fuller. He reaches for me - broken knuckles touches porcelain as I feel you through him. I move swiftly through the thick film of memories from another time - disconnected, lost to him (because I want to be) and I know you are here because he is wrong. My gaze takes in the faces around me - working men from another time, another space, the band playing the banjo on stage. 

"You like the banjo, don't you?" you say as you lean back with a wolfish smile (typical, so typical). And we are in Westport, very far away from London. And it's another year, another month and I can't breathe because I feel so much and I fear if I blink you will disappear. You taught me to chase rainbows. You taught me to endeavour to achieve the unachievable and this bar in London is not it, this man by my side is not it. 

As I step out into the night - your steps echo next to mine on the way to the metro.

lördag 27 december 2014

Déjà vu

Julia: Jamen Nina, bara du kollar så att han inte gör du vet vad i soffor och så...
Jag: Va?
Julia: Ja, du behöver ju inte bekymra dig så mycket över att han är irländare - de kan inte vara sådana allihopa.
Jag: Mmmm
Julia: Och se till att ta reda på vad han heter i efternamn.
Jag: Ja, det verkar ju spela en viss roll.
Julia: Precis min tanke.

Fiddler's Green – The Night Pat Murphy Died

fredag 26 december 2014


Så sätter du ord på det hela genom din förbluffade tystnad och allt känns så där klart och förståeligt igen. Så påminner du mig om vem jag är och vart jag kommer ifrån bara sådär, genom att inga stora ord behöver sägas - vi är bara ett vi i ett nu som ingen av oss trivs med, men vi minns plötsligt att vi alltid håller varandras händer; över hav, genom mil och trots alla de timmar som vi inte sitter vid ditt köksbord och dricker te och röker Marlboro. Och jag älskar dig så mycket att jag tappar andan, och du känner mig så väl att jag tänker att du vet vem jag är mer än jag vet vem jag är just nu. Min tillit är fullständig, min kärlek villkorslös. Genom dig får jag styrkan att omfamna tanken: Nina, get on with it.

Du är den vackraste själen jag känner.

Julie London – Fly Me to the Moon (In Other Words)

lördag 29 november 2014


Once upon a time there was a boy. He had the deepest voice imaginable and he stammered when he asked me:

"Are you coming tonight?"

He would bake cakes without recipes, he would get lost for hours on Wikipedia, keep fancy books in his bookcase just in case someone was watching and he would make soap that reminded me of the ocean. He was a boy who's phone remained silent on his birthday, he was a boy who's voice broke a bit when he told me that his father sent an empty birthday card to celebrate the day.

"At least I can reuse it and sent it to someone else."

His surface was hard and shiny, but his hands gentle. He would take my face between his large hands and smile at me and pull me close:

"You say the most amazing things, Nina."

He was a boy who would stand on the doorstep of his house and silently watch me walk down the street to catch the bus: 

"Baby, do you have enough money for the fare?"

(His hand remained lifted like a picture frozen in time, after blowing me a kiss).

He was a boy I could have loved if he would have let me. A boy that made different variations of peach cake simply because I adore peaches. A boy lost. A boy down. A Peter Pan who would not grow up because it hurt too much. 

He remains on stage. He remains alone. He remains as he is. In torment, in turmoil. 

My broken Billy. 

söndag 23 november 2014


I remember that morning - the sunlight streaming in through your window. The world was right, the world was at ease, my voice muffled against your chest as I said: "Good morning, morning, I think I may be Chinese today!" You chuckled and offered me a bacon sandwich, but yet we remained as we were until the train threatened to leave us behind. I put my cardigan on only to find you standing there in front of me, the pale morning light hitting your body like a spotlight: "Wina, I want a picture of you just as you are now." And I felt suddenly shy, suddenly 15 again - tilting my head down from the relentless white light of the Thursday morning. Your fingers gently touched my chin, lifted my face upwards and: Klick - a young girl stared back at me. A mass of hair and beaming, iridescent eyes. And I realized then that this was love. I realized then that you never know why, sometimes it's just a given.  I fed you  berries on the way to the train station. (A fork sticking out of the pocket of my leather jacket.) And when you kissed me goodbye amongst the throngs of stressing commuters I had absolutely no idea that you would break my heart.

fredag 10 oktober 2014


I'm swinging in the trapezoidal. I'm not ready to let go yet, but inch by inch my fingers are beginning to trust that I can land safely no matter what. I am aware of my fear, but the world is so breathtaking and luminous from above that it takes my breath away. My dress is made of translucent fabric and it floats in the air, but still remaining a second skin as I move ever so swiftly though the breeze. The light in your eyes shows me the way; it glitters and beams in the crisp night air and I abandon every word other than: freedom. I let go of the bar and find myself swinging though the misty, dusty veil that makes up the remembrances of my past. In a split second I flow like water through pouring rain, through blistering sunshine, through violent storms and life as I once knew it is gone in a heartbeat.

I am no acrobat, I am not weightless, but with you beside me I am fearless.

Taylor Swift – State Of Grace

söndag 21 september 2014


She is falling.
She doesn't know why, it simply just so.
That he is in the sky, the trees, the blossoms exploding in this Indian summer; in the air, the light, the gleam of this bright moon. He is made of tainted glass; every color of the rainbow, peach cake and cherry liqueur.

But mostly, he has a feeling of coming home; and leaves one single word echoing through this crisp night when he lets go of her hand....


Nick Drake – Northern Sky

måndag 15 september 2014


The window to the hallway was made of glass; fragments, slices, orbits and shapes the color of the rainbow. And when the sun shone through it the dust-particles glittered like a thousand diamonds; little stars shooting through the air, tiny specs of the fragile hopes we use to build our lives with. (The night closed in on us on a deserted sidewalk - the wind brisk, blowing new air into our lungs.) I sat there watching - through your eyes - something I had never seen.

And I knew I had finally arrived.

Jónsi – Sun

torsdag 11 september 2014


Man - it took you long enough.
Time - for no thoughts. (They are not necessary: I know you without knowing you.)
Limbs - moving. (But you are next to me.)
How - can you be so perfect for me?
Your jacket - around my shoulders.
Your eyes, your mind - like mine, but different.
Words - not too big or to small, just right.

I - am ready.

PS: What are you doing for the rest of your life?

Hellsongs – I Just Want You