Polaroids from italy














                                                                        to tatiana



We got  lost in the narrow streets, betting our dreams for lovers, drink ourselves around the fountains.

We were so naive, we raised dreams in flooded houses,  I still can feel the adrenaline while running the labyrinth,  we didn't have much, just love enchanting our hearts...

... I miss our innocence in 2007. these memories are now collected  in a drawer without a handle...

Venice, Venice,  the old buildings falling apart, the wild carnival behind masks,  we have hidden our shadows behind a layer of magic. Don't worry, this city is know by it's majestic power of keeping secrets, one day the same mesmerizing waves  will wash all of that away...

the men of salt





















































Indian christian living in salt, he invited me to his house offered me tea and told me his story, it was lonely, 
beautiful, but full of joy in a way, his eyes transmitted the spirit of a good heart, unfortunately i  don't remember his name, so i call him "the man of salt.


I saw many things walking, this girl running with her hair uncovered, birds, food, skirts moving, but what i will remember is that man.

raspberries & strangers











Sometimes you give, and give, but it isn't enough...
don't tell me you like nick drake.




Jag pratar inte svenska

Inspiration II

One fine day - Takeshi Kitano


Stockholm Suburbs

The beautiful Suburbs






























another bycicle gone...c'est la vie

society



























































society can be gross and scary, i supose we should try to fit, or not?

somewhere




  I always wondered if you were travelling, where did you go, did you love? did you dream? did you get sad?


 if we would drink a beer,
 if we would tell each other stupid jokes,

or if it's is just a dream and  we would be gone instead...

day at the beach



It is not a road movie.  It is not a love story. It is a life story.


                                                                                                                  in the end...




"Travel can be one of the most rewarding forms of introspection" Lawrence Durrell

Ola  Podrida - day at the beach



On the beach I limped and held your weary hand
That windy day we slept well past noon
Too busy counting every grain of sand
To even have a ghost of a clue

I played in the waves like a five-year-old child
Timing my jumps with the rolling tide
I never looked to see you on the shore
Planning your escape and drying your eyes
Had you known for a week, a month, or a year
Had you been trying in vain to let me know
Somehow I never noticed your tears
And sitting there smiling I watched you go

I laid on back, listening to the waves
Humming a song that you never knew
The water wet your feet
As you crossed through the sand
And whispered that you'd be back soon
I never thought to ask you when
Blind to the sorrow you were laying to rest
I never thought to tell you to jump back in
And sitting there smiling I watched you go










                                               te quiero

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