Driving out to the cottage through the March rain, Dries in the passenger seat feeling carsick. There were cranes on a newly turned field. Spring is here, gray and beautiful.
And then sitting in an armchair, with the warmth of the fire and the literature podcast Lundströms Bokradio in my ears. People talking about Werner Aspenström, school as a literary setting and the impossibilities of love. The pattern that I just designed is turning into beautiful lobster mittens. The light lingers for so long now, the second day after the return from daylight saving time.
Having someone cook dinner for you. It happens so rarely. I’m always the one cooking.
And then, going to sleep in the big bed, so much bigger than my own, screamingly empty. No towers of books to read on the nightstand. No piles of dirty laundry on the floor. No thesis anxiety in the walls. Just me between the sheets.
Katja Malmborg 