Secret Forest
Reading, writing, dreaming. I think I can call it a good day. I started my day with teaching a bit of Algebra to one of my students, who needed an extra hand. I enjoyed reading a little detective story, and I was fairly productive working on my owns little fictional writings. Now, walking through this mad, lonely town, I take a little detour and start climbing the forest. It seemed to me that no one had walked this path for a long time. The tall trees are whispering under the slow breeze. I set my place of rest deep into the forest. Just me, my thoughts, my books, I feet the presence of God and I’m gracious for it. To an audience of trees, broken branches and leaves, I sing Amazing Grace and then get lost into my novel. Despite all the hardship, life, after...
Read MoreDear beloved friend and cousin, E.,
I’m writing from a family restaurant in the east side of Tokyo, where I came to grab a quick light dinner and a ton of coffee. Truth to be told, I woke up feeling dizzy today, but I powered through the day somehow. To relax and blow out some steam, I decided to spend some time drawing. I don’t know why I chose that particular activity, especially when you consider how bad of a painter I am (in school, I used to borrow my older sister’s drawings for my art class). Be that as it may, I got my coffee, I sat down and, following a video-tutorial from Disney Studios, I ended up drawing a couple of Minnie Mouse versions. I was thinking of you the entire time. Probably because you threw that fairy tale wedding, where you looked like a Disney Princess, now...
Read MoreA touch of blue, under the Stockholm sky
On the terrace of Radisson Collection Strand Hotel, with a view over the astonishing Nybroviken waters, I sit in a folding chair, smoking my usual, Camel, with a fine cup of coffee and Chet Baker playing in the background. I tried hard not to think about Ela, but that was a mistake. Like she had done for years now, she slipped through the cracks on the walls I had built to keep the world outside. This time, the situation was different. E., was dead and, unfortunately, there was nothing metaphorical about it. Two weeks ago, while it had been the most usual day for me, someone had forced his will upon her. I always thought there was something indestructible about her. Her being, hersoul. So much pride into her eyes, like a queen. Like there wasn’t enough force in...
Read MoreRunning one step at a time: How I’m getting ready for my first marathon.
“For me, running is both exercise and a metaphor… In long-distance running the only opponent you have to beat is yourself, the way you used to be”, Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. I recently had the pleasure to watch Joan Benoit Samuelson‘s Masterclass on running. When it comes to this topic, there probably isn’t anyone more competent to teach the physicality and spirit that goes into running. I might summarize her teachings on another occasion, but here I want to share my plan on how to gradually prepare myself for a marathon. Feel free to modify it for your own needs. Short term goals (2-3 months): Before every run-Strengthening Exercise 3 sets of: Plank squads sidestep high knees one leg raise bridges...
Read MoreHer memories
Pushing a little bike, With a basket on the front, She carries her memories. “I got this bike from my childhood friend”, she says, Without looking at me. “He didn’t want to give it to me for a ride, But I asked his mom, And she told him to lend it to me.” In the cart, she carries a basketball, “I like to have you in my team” I think this is the first time she admitted About an activity she wants to do with me. “Because you’re the only guy who actually passes the ball To a girl, I appreciate that” I think this is the first time I see her with straight hair. Everything is changing, And the patterns don’t serve anymore, I can’t wrap my head around it. How come that I came to Japan, I traveled through half of the world, Running...
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