There are places that stick. Where belonging isn’t an issue, where getting lost doesn’t feel threatening because it is all part of you. Where pieces of you can fall into place, possibly rearranged after times of great change, but still keeping the essence of you. A place where breathing is a sufficient purpose for existence.
For me, this is such a place. It doesn’t really make sense, I spent a couple of weeks every summer here between ten and nineteen, there are places where I’ve spent more time, where I’ve experienced more things. But, I don’t know, there’s just something about this place. I’m sitting on a cliff watching the glittering waves, and I feel like I could melt into the rock, right here, and be perfectly content. I feel I belong.
Maybe this is what the landscape of my soul looks like. Rugged cliffs and hard rock, weird trees, shy sheep and fluttering butterflies. Difficult to access, but full of hidden crevices and beaches of calm. Not for everyone, but beautiful for those who have the patience to give it some time.
Katja Malmborg 