I have a weakness for short, fragmentary novels with observations from life. Like Elin Ruuth’s Fara vill, that I read ages ago, I found this quote while cleaning my computer:
I am taught that you can hear where the lungs start and end by patting yourself lightly along your back. I am not taught how to pat my own back. One theory is that you are dependent on other people to fully understand your own anatomy. In all possible contexts, dependence seems to be a completely legitimate phenomenon.
Lately, I’ve been feeling so disconnected from my body. And I’m not sure that I’ve ever known where my lungs end.
I wish winter would come now. The cold always turns breathing into a conscious activity. If not fully giving a sense for their beginning and end, filling my lungs with freezing air makes their volume feel so tangible.
Katja Malmborg 