Waking up to a world covered in crystals and mist. The air first turning my lungs into frost, before my heart has had the chance to get properly started.
And then going home under a sky that turns from orange to purple, through the smells of brackish sea, yellow leaves and decaying apples under old trees.
On those days, it doesn’t matter much if the time in between is a labyrinth I can’t seem to find my way out of, the data isn’t making sense and conceptual frameworks to abstract to grasp. I have my wheels, and that is enough for today.
Katja Malmborg 