And I am home alone. Less than a week ago, I returned from a month-long trip across Europe, sitting on trains watching fields of maize and beech trees deeply rooted in German soils, me rushing rushing on in a blur. There is a lot to write about. I wish I had more days, some emptiness,Continue reading “evenings are getting darker now”
Tag Archives: reflections
terminally lost
It was lying by the window, curled up, gleaming blue. It must have flown in on a warm afternoon, windows open to let the breeze in, and then not found its way back out. Starved. It’s a purple emperor (Apatura iris), from the right angle the wings take on the depth of the August nightContinue reading “terminally lost”
twenty seventeen, first half
I cannot focus. I have not written, properly, since Burkina Faso the first time. When the people overthrew the despot, in the fall and winter of 2014. It’s not that I haven’t had anything to write about – it’s just. The energy to put the thoughts into words. I have not been able to musterContinue reading “twenty seventeen, first half”
autobiographies and the need for introspection
Some time ago, I read two books. It wasn’t intentional, but they happened to be autobiographies and, coincidentally, the authors belong to the same writing group in Portland. After having read them, it kind of made sense. They were about journeys, about finding a way out of a broken past, big sorrow, drugs and destructiveContinue reading “autobiographies and the need for introspection”
the art of being young and boring
Towards the end of September (again, I’m LATE), I went to a workshop in France. It was a final team meeting with most collaborators in the project that I’m part of. The project lead works in Montpellier, so that’s where we all went, people flying in from all over, Ghana, Burkina Faso, California, Minnesota, UK.Continue reading “the art of being young and boring”
an island summer, part II: Koster (early August)
In the beginning of August, I went to Koster with my dad to spend a couple of windy days on those ragged isles. Koster is a group of islands off the west coast of Sweden, right on the border to Norway. My great grandfather’s family comes from Strömstad, the closest town on the mainland toContinue reading “an island summer, part II: Koster (early August)”
returning to spring (early May)
Traveling and adventures and working in exotic places is all fine, but. I can’t remember a time when I felt more relieved from returning home than last May. Oh, was I happy. And arriving in a Stockholm that had just exploded into spring bloom, the sun shining through bright green leaves. It was like enteringContinue reading “returning to spring (early May)”
on my street in Asylum Down (late April)
Coming back to Accra for a couple of days in the end of April felt strangely familiar. It is funny how quickly one creates routines for oneself, despite all aspirations for adventure. When it comes down to it, we just want to create a home for ourselves, wherever we are. In Accra, I stayed inContinue reading “on my street in Asylum Down (late April)”
when temperatures lose sense (mid-April)
About halfway through our fieldwork period, I got sick. Fever, sore throat, aching joints. I was doing OK during our last days in Tenkodogo, Burkina Faso, only feeling a bit faint, but after the bumpy ride across the border down to Zebilla in Ghana, the sickness got a proper hold in me. Just standing upContinue reading “when temperatures lose sense (mid-April)”
a harvest of hearts (mid-April)
During my field visit, southern Burkina Faso was entering mango season. These magnificent trees, dense, deep green crowns. Looking even more extraordinary in the otherwise barren, end-of-dry-season landscape. And their fruit, light green, a promise of sweetness. Like a heart, hanging from a vein. It made me think of something written by Catherynne M. Valente,Continue reading “a harvest of hearts (mid-April)”
Katja Malmborg 