My feet start protesting, loudly, when I put on my shoes before driving to pick up Natalia and her friend Niki, visiting from Bolivia, from the train station. I’ve been walking barefoot for almost a week, only occasionally wearing flip-flops. My feet resent the confinement in the shoes, they want the open air and the texture of grass against my toes.
I’ve developed summer feet.
Natalia trying to climb an oak.
Dinner on the hill. Nat, Niki, Anna, Aron, dad. Dad outshining himself with the barbecued salmon. Another glimmering pearl to thread onto my necklace of summer memories.
Natalia taking a sunset swim in Sillen.
Katja Malmborg 