Subarctic

It is funny how we humans are when we sleep. How the doors between the past and the present are opened, how smiles can come back and hit you when your guard is lowered.

Waking up to a cloudy day in Korea, Eddie wanted to watch some Pippi Longstocking in bed while eating one of those organic fruit pouches from California that we promised ourselves to stop buying a million times.

I turn a page and try to make sense of what the post-Korea future will be like. Similary to when I moved to Örebro many years ago, it feels like an individual choice, something that opens up for its own aesthetic and transcendental paradoxes. Always at the limit. That is there it is all created and lived. My three years in Asia have made me deeply suspicious of ideas about primordial balances, extinguished desires or even harmony as understood from a Confucian point of view. Instead I seek existential friction, friable beauty and an absolute presence that demands the highest yet has love to heal the lowest. Much as I imagine God holding the world.