I’m sitting on a train again. This time, headed north. Härnösand, to be precise. The sun was shining when we left Stockholm at noon, but now it’s half past three and the clouds are a dull grey. I’m going to a course, a prerequisite to get the money from the grant I got as funding for my field work in Burkina Faso. There’s a buffé at six. I’m starving already, despite just having eaten a sandwich and an egg. I’m incredibly sleepy. I feel I don’t really know how this will turn out. In a general sense, this fall, things are on the move. Life, you know.
There are so many red houses around here. Falu-red with white around the windows and on the corners. Horses. Hills covered with conifers. We’re approaching Sundsvall. Which is where my grandfather grew up. But personally, I’ve never been. I won’t go, this time either. Härnösand is even further north.
Katja Malmborg 