Author Archives: Katja

Saturday. I was supposed to go studying for a couple of hours at the library. But then Hannes called and told me to pack some lunch. Fifteen minutes later he picked me up with his car. The sun was shining from a chillingly blue sky. I couldn’t really say no, could I? He drove usContinue reading “Saturday hike in the old growth forest”

The most famous cat in Uppsala must be Pelle Svanslös, the kind cat without tail from the childrens’ books. They even have traffic signs depicting him. Cutie pie.

I love quotes. Maximes. The idea that one can capture life in a sentence. A handfull of words. It thrills me. The simplicity and beauty. Life is rarely simple. Neither is it always beautiful. Someone once said that the only reason for being a writer is if you have no other choice. But how isContinue reading “To choose writing”

A September Sunday: I am reading “The Blind Contessa’s New Machine” by Carey Wallace. It is the most beautiful thing I’ve read for a very long time. There is a sincerety and a delicacy, a devotion to detail. It’s the tale of the first writing machine, and the love story that came before and after.Continue reading “Words that break my heart”

So, Peace and Conflict Studies maybe wasn’t what I thought it’d be. I haven’t decided yet if I like it or not. But when I’m not studying, I’m spending hours and hours in my kitchen. Baking pies and buns and one Saturday, Frida came and we baked bagels together. They didn’t really taste like realContinue reading “Transition: The new home of my yarn basket”

So, while I try to come up with a new theme for this little blog of mine, I might as well tell you a little bit about what’s happened since I came back from Phoenix. My first Sunday back home, I baked four cakes and invited people to come and share them with me. TheContinue reading “Transition: The August in between”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . fall

Feels kind of odd, really, writing this now considering that I’ve been home for more than two months. But I made a decision, I wanted to finish the story – and now I have. 330 chapters of North America travels. I definitely had far too high aspirations, and I don’t know about the quality ofContinue reading “Epilogue”

Even though he is a real vagabond, Mr. P did admit that coming home has it’s advantages and pleasures. Especially on an evening like this one.

I arrived in Stockholm in the morning on the first of August. In the afternoon, I picked up my stepmother’s car and drove an hour south down to my dad’s summer house. The first thing dad did was to put me to work in the potato patch. Maybe to make me show if I’d learnedContinue reading “Chapter 329: There’s no place like home”