Wednesday, December 31, 2008

A new year



Like all great caves, the belly of the wrapped bridge was covered with mysterious images:





Happy New Year!

Cocooning










co•coon |kəˈkoōn|
noun
a silky case spun by the larvae of many insects for protection as pupae.
• a similar structure made by other animals.
• a covering that prevents the corrosion of metal equipment.
• something that envelops or surrounds, esp. in a protective or comforting way :
the cocoon of her kimono | figurative a warm cocoon of love.

verb [ trans. ] (usu. be cocooned)
envelop or surround in a protective or comforting way : we began to feel cold even though we were cocooned in our sleeping bags.
• spray with a protective coating.
• [ intrans. ] retreat from the stressful conditions of public life into the cozy private world of the family :
the movers and shakers are now cocooning.




However we don't settle at that, we also sometimes wrap our bridges.

Saturday, December 27, 2008

He's BACK!


Who wants the ice cream truck...

when THE PUPPET MAN is in town?

(Sorry for the poor quality but I took these photos from a distance.
A long distance.)

The Christmas harvest




My sweet family gave me Iittala Taika cups and saucers for Christmas.
Aren't they lovely?

(I was trying to make a little Ninainvorm-esque china display tribute here.)

Friday, December 26, 2008

Boarded up dreams of summer


These are photos of an allotment area situated in the suburbs northwest of Stockholm. When I was littler (though probably older than you'd think) I used to fantasize about making a movie depicting a war between rivaling blocks here.

Of course you can't have an allotment house without a flag...

or a television set.




Many allotment gardens resemble miniature farms more than anything else.

And then...

as though divided by a straight line...

the landscape changes.


It seems not even allotment areas escape the class divide.



Some people actually use there gardens for gardening - !



My mum.

It was a cold day, and the whole time we were there I had this poem by Werner Aspenström in my head:

Om tio tusen år smälter isen.
Det infrusna barnet lossnar
och återupptager sin lek:
skapar av pinnar och kottar
tjur, ko och kalv
samt en gärdesgård mot döden.

And in my translation:

In ten thousand years time the ice will melt
The frozen child will get loose
and resume the game:
create of sticks and pine cones
bull, cow and calf
and a fence against death.


Then we left for the dark green of the woods, and a Christmas Day sip of my brother-in-law's Jamaica Blue Mountain.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008