Christmas.


With Santa hat's and a lot of food we celebrate one of the greatest eve's of the year.



Gizmo struck his annual pose and we saw sunset after sunset. 


Christ surprised us all with some snow.

 

Holy days.



Clouds. They looked like a landscape that morning. 
As if I could walk down the airplane stairs and skip around on them, like giant sponges. 
She was drawing, my Taiwanesian friend, drawing the beauty we saw. Bachelor of Arts, what a dream. 
The paradise looks like a sunrise, I know it already. An infinite sunrise, just like my pictures are eternalised. 
Dreaming a bit more, deleting time.


We pretended that we could meet in our dreams when we were young,
 play together in the imagined snow outside. Climbing trees and libraries. 
I keep dreaming all those things, with new faces and no boundaries. 
Boulder. Bouldering. Falling down from mountains in Yosemite. 
Skydiving, flying, towards the ground. En hand i himlen, som vi alltid sa.


The plane is landing and my parents are waiting on the other side of the barrier. 
My friends are waiting at home, calling, messaging - yes I am here
I am here now, for a little while. Play with me and show me what I have forgotten.
 

Goodmorning, it's already noon.

 

Hi
Are you alright?
The things one do when it gets colder are:
Flying in a cable car over the Thames,
Breathing in the hights of Greenwich 
And eating and eating. 
Sunday roast and Christmas fika. 
Shooting stars and winning reindeers.
Strawling around in a winter wonderland.
No more deadlines.
No stress.
Me.