I come from a land of forests and lakes. Small fields and small conglomerates of civilization like satellites among all the green and the blue. It’s never as obvious, as when I return home, flying in over the Mälardalen landscape. The odd grove of deciduous trees have started getting yellow and red edges, on the precipice of decay.
This is the land I come from. A land of water and woods. How could I ever, truly, understand the consequences of parched soil?
Katja Malmborg 