They turned out all right, in the end. I’ve finally managed to go through them all and deliver them to the newly weds Emilie and Jocke. Decent wedding photos.

Oh.

I just saw the most amazing movie.

(I really shouldn’t have, I’ve had a cold and then I couldn’t fall asleep last night, so I had two cups of coffee today at the advisory committee meeting thingy, which for me is two cups too many, and I’m really exhausted. I feel faint. I only started watching something random from Netflix because I wanted something to calm down for a minute, I hadn’t planned to see all of it, but once I got into it, I just couldn’t turn it off…)

Impromptu. From 1991, with Judy Davis and Hugh Grant, about the author George Sand and the composer Frédéric Chopin. I can’t decide if the acting was brilliant or embarrassingly poor, and there were some definite unnecessary dramatic turns – but at the core, this queer love story. This very imperfect pursuit by George Sand. The cowardice of Frédéric Chopin. The mistakes! And the music.

Chopin is what I listen to when I need to focus. I need the simplicity and clarity of his nocturnes to make sense of my thoughts.

I must read George Sand. The way she is portrayed in the film, she seemed to be a refreshingly in-your-face kind of feminist in a time when the first wave of feminism had barely even started.

And I also want to lie on the floor underneath a grand piano, listening to someone playing an impromptu above my head. Forever.

* ~ *

(Oh, and I also wish I could be that person for real, who contently would just lie there and listen to someone else play for me – but we all know I’m not that person. After a couple of songs, I would become restless and then I would ask whoever is playing to switch to something with lyrics, so that I can sing. I have quite an unattractive personality that way.

But maybe with time, I will develop a skill for listening too. One can always hope.)

My cousin got married yesterday, and she asked me to take photos during the ceremony. I said yes, of course, because I’m always happy to help. But. When the day arrived and I was there, I almost choked. I hadn’t realized what kind of responsibility it meant. This was their day, and I was there to make sure they got some pretty pictures to remember it by. What if I screwed up?

I haven’t been able to look through the photos yet, because today I helped mom host a dinner party, but I will. Tomorrow. I took a total of 933 photos. At least a couple should be good, right? Otherwise, I’m the worst cousin ever.

But, in case I failed everything else yesterday, let me just say: I was gorgeous, in a apricot colored dress and amazing hair. Obviously nothing compared to the bride’s beauty, but I felt good. I had actually made an effort, which happens rarely with me. However, there is no proof. You’ll just have to imagine it. I was the photographer. We’re behind the camera, by definition.

Apparently, that’s a thing. And who doesn’t love elephants? So let’s celebrate with a picture of this lovely creature, taking a midnight drink together with a rhinoceros at a pond in Etosha National Park in Namibia.

And isn’t it funny, that I just finished this design for the front of a mitten today.

Sweden is rushing past my window. I’ve finished knitting a hat for Elin’s baby girl Ruth. It’s been raining heavily, but not it’s not anymore. It is a beautiful country, this land that brought me up.

Children are occupying themselves, with running and song. It’s getting dark outside. I’m listening to Veronica Maggio

Försöker va hård, men alla förstår.

Some kind of melancholia lies over Scandinavia.

I’m sitting on my spot. The water is calm today. The clouds are heavy, bordered in deep blue, but they seem content with it. Rain hasn’t been promised until tonight. I’m going to take a swim, the last, and then the ferry will take me to Strömstad, to the train and home. One week left of summer holiday, then the thesis work begins.

Believe it or not, but I am really looking forward to it. Ready again to dig my teeth into the tedious work that is the dry and challenging world of academia. This week has really done me good. I feel like I’ve found my way back to myself.

There are places that stick. Where belonging isn’t an issue, where getting lost doesn’t feel threatening because it is all part of you. Where pieces of you can fall into place, possibly rearranged after times of great change, but still keeping the essence of you. A place where breathing is a sufficient purpose for existence.

For me, this is such a place. It doesn’t really make sense, I spent a couple of weeks every summer here between ten and nineteen, there are places where I’ve spent more time, where I’ve experienced more things. But, I don’t know, there’s just something about this place. I’m sitting on a cliff watching the glittering waves, and I feel like I could melt into the rock, right here, and be perfectly content. I feel I belong.

Maybe this is what the landscape of my soul looks like. Rugged cliffs and hard rock, weird trees, shy sheep and fluttering butterflies. Difficult to access, but full of hidden crevices and beaches of calm. Not for everyone, but beautiful for those who have the patience to give it some time.

 

Oh, the incredibly shy Polyommatini. How I wish I had brought my telephoto lens, for all the butterflies.

And it aches in me that I can’t share it with the one person who would understand exactly what that means.