So this is my dear Finnish friend A. He probably has just about the cutest smile in the northern hemisphere, a very sunny open mind and a thoughtful, positive approach to the world. AWESOME!

– It’s a pencil drawing from March 2011, made during the weeks I spent alone up in my attic flat working on a gigantic paper about the ethical function of the old-Icelandic Hrólfs saga kraka as fornaldarsaga (literally “tale of times past”) against the background of medieval European ideals of ethical education in literary texts. Yeah, killer title.

Actually, it’s probably the coolest thing I’ve done in my university careeer so far, despite the countless hours of work it made me spend in social isolation with my computer. =3 (The paper that is. Hihi)

“Humans are complex, she said.”

You are so pretty, I said. But that’s not that what is important, she said. No, of course not, I said. I don’t think you’re so pretty, but I like you very much as a person, she said. That’s nice of you to say, that, I said. Arne is pretty, she said. Do you remember him? He is really unbelievably handsome. He is one of the prettiest men I know of, she said. Yes, I said. He is quite pretty, that’s true that. Humans are complex, she said. They have different features.

From: “Du kan ikke svikte din beste venn og bli god til å synge samtidig” by Kim Hiorthøy. Translated by me.

“The Company of Myself”

There is this fascinating little flash game that goes by the name “The Company of Myself”.

Admittedly, I still haven’t finished it because I think it’s worth giving it more time / attention than your usual little flash game. Because it has an awesome story. – A lonely hermit who learns to help himself to solve his problems, and about whom you will gradually discover more by medium of his monologues.

Also, when a friend first sent it to me some months ago, he managed to catch me in the so-far-2nd-time-this-year when I was pretty tipsy, and so I was basically content to just listen to the background music and let my thoughts drift.

If you don’t majorly hate this kind of stuff, you should probably give it a try =3

(On a side note, it took me a bit of strength to decide to post a new entry because I liked seeing the one below a lot. The joyful summery colours *__*)

“Always the summers”

After a long long two weeks of always-less-than-18°C and pretty constant rain, today the sky is a flawless flaring blue, the sun is glaring and it’s almost 30°C. And I’m melting like an ice-cream cone in the hands of a luckless little kid.

(Well, who noticed the little reference to this morning’s post? :3)


Also, the brave little passion flower sprout now has 3 little siblings. I was just peeling the remains of the inner skins of the seeds off their adorably minute two leaves when I was hit by motherly feelings.


What touched me – On Saturday, me and C. were checking out different videos of Porcupine Tree playing their song ‘Trains‘. (C. has quite a personal relation to the song, and I loved it before, but that makes it all the more precious to me).

Check it out here, by the way.

Under one video, someone had posted something like

“I love his hair, his skinny body and his bare feet – but more than all, I love his brain.”

That image struck a chord with me. Could it be vulnerability?


I’ve also been working on learning how to play it on le acoustic guitar the past week or so. Turns out it’s not as hard as I thought after all (I’m in luck), though it’s quite a challenge for me to play it so it satisfies me. But playing and singing it just for myself is such a great feeling – almost ethereal (I’m dying of love – it’s okay…).


Lucky that frogs aren’t like humans.

– This is from this webcomic I adore, Pictures for Sad Children. Very weird, bewildering, funny, and, at times, sad (now who would have thought). Will be posting more of my favourites in the future.

<dives into the pond, creeps behind the frog, gently embraces it and whispers soothing words into its ear>

(do frogs have ears?)

“And you open like a flower …”

I’ve slaughtered a maracuja.

(That was on May 10th, by the way.)

I made a huge mess fumbling out all the little passion tadpoles in there. It was way more than I thought the little maracuja shell would be able to hold. Behold!

Freeing them all of the slimy persistent flesh was QUITE some work. Ultimately, it yielded almost 90 seeds (yay so many!). I planted them into a flat saucerthing meant to catch surplus water from balcony pots, put a glass thing from the fridge over it (don’t need it in the fridge, my milk values some space when standing upright – also, I don’t want to put drink packages sideways though I might know they are sealed firmly. Weird, no?) for increased humidity aaaand granted it a special sunny place on my table.

Since then more than a month has passed, but the interwebs has told me I need to be patient with passion flower seeds. However I often don’t have much patience so I occasionally find myself screaming at the seeds to start the heck growing. Lulz just kidding.

WELL, so 2 days ago, I woke up and there was this THING to greet me – this THING! I might call it a sprout. I had almost given up hope that anything would ever start living there. I think I can hear it go “Hey there world! I’m a happy little sprout! I’m here to grow and make you happy!” =D


As is probably rather obvious by now, I do love plants. Not obsessively or anything, but seeding something like this and then see life grow out of it and evolve and lean towards the sun and yearn for water is wonderful.

And you open like a flower
And I open too
I have found that what you seek
Is the perfect flower and it is in you,
And I only wish you knew
Gazpacho – Upside Down

“Disappointments, defeats. They never end.”

So when I visited some internet friends in Oslo, Norway in February this year, H. gave me this little book. It’s called “Du kan ikke svikte din beste venn og bli god til å synge samtidig” (“You can’t fail your best friend and become good at singing at the same time”) by Norwegian author Kim Hiorthøy. It is full of precious little stories, weird moments, pretty sentences, and a few minimalistic, sober drawings by the author. If you like the style and know any Norwegian at all you should definitely consider buying it.


Late one afternoon, as I was sitting and letting my thoughts drift, the doorbell rang. I opened and there stood Henriette, she was naked and looked as though she had run. Hi, I said. Hi, she said. Can I come in? Sure that, I said, do you want some coffee? I’d rather kiss you all over your entire body, she said. That’s fine with me, that, I said. After all, we could drink coffee later. But afterwards, I naturally discovered that I didn’t have any coffee. That had been something I had just proposed in the heat of the moment, you could perhaps say, without being aware of the consequences. Disappointments, defeats. They never end.

From: “Du kan ikke svikte din beste venn og bli god til å synge samtidig” by Kim Hiorthøy. Translated by me.

“The first time I ever liked the view of a factory …”

– Taken in Duisburg, Germany on Christmas day 2010. I went for a walk to the rhine park with my Dad, stumbling through ankle-high snow all the way because there usually isn’t that much snow around there.

The bridge is one of the 7 bridges of Duisburg that go over the river Rhine. It has quite a history (sorry, German only) – it has first been built in 1873, but has been destroyed and rebuilt a few times since then. Today, it’s used by regional trains, pedestrians and cyclists. I remember that walking across it feels somewhat scary because the path is right next to the train tracks, and when a train passes while you are walking across, everything shakes and is incredibly loud and I can never help but think that all the metal pieces surely must fall apart any second.

In the background, there are some typical landmarks of Duisburg, that is factory chimneys.

I like this shot because it shows natural beauty together with Duisburg’s industrial personality. It feels pretty, and honest.

Wherever you are on this earth, there are always pretty sunsets. (I think)

French memories and linen thread

So here’s what I worked with yesterday:

… yeps. That’s some serious French linen thread for you non-Frenchies out there. This particular spool of thread is very dear to me because I bought it in a cosy little needlework store in a side lane in the historic centre of Grasse, Provence, Southern France, a few years ago. It was run by two chubby old women, and they had all kinds of fantastic needle work things – lots of colourful buttons and laces and threads in all sorts of colours and fabrics and whatnot. The image feels like it could’ve been taken from a book or a story, perhaps. Also, it smells of lavender, as does nearly everything in the self-proclaimed world capital of perfume. I’ll look through photos from my trips to Grasse and post the most interesting ones some other day.

I sew these memories into my stuff whenever I use this thread.

Yesterday, I used it to fix a tearing in my pannier, and then decided I might as well add a few stitches to my rainbow cotton bag, where the straps meet the bag, to keep it from tearing when I use it to carry lots of heavy stuff. Books or yummy fruit juice, for example. Turns out once more that I suck at sewing, but I had fun.

Something French goes as soundtrack with this: La Veilée by Yann Tiersen which I found on the incredibly cheesy but very pleasing Vive La Chanson CD I bought out of a mood some years ago.