Outskirts

Driving around in the outskirts of Stockholm. The snow is gone but temperature is well below zero. Discovering unknown parts of the city is way of meditation. This is old Viking country filled with burial-grounds and runestones.

This is pagan and Christian landscape at the same time, churches built on places of pagan worship, messages telling the stories of death and suffering in Russia or Turkey. A lot of fortunes were made there by Vikings being mercenaries or tradesmen.

Our barren land could not feed everyone so the bravest and most desperate left long time ago. This is not a land to be happy in. That is not the nature of Sweden. Here you work and suffers in silence until you eventually die.

Perspective on Life

Life is getting slower when you grow old

The stories and dramas repeats itself

Every human thinks he is unique but

In reality we are just copies

Replicating patterns known from before

With some small variations

Accepting this is freedom

I Don’t Want To Go

The end is so near

I am not ready

To end it all

Just lost the meaning

To live

Have to find a new one

I know I am not

Good enough and

That is not really

Where I want to be

Morning Routine

Every morning the same routine

The same conflicts

And the running

Like a rat

Up and down the stairs

Running out

Coming back

Losing, not finding, forgetting

And eventually

She is gone

In a cloud of smoke

Missing the bus

And her life

Building My World

Trying to get a manual

For a good and functional

Life, Outside my small and

Secluded world

They are ruling through fear

Not terror but fear of losing

What you have and

Being part of the losing

Angry majority

Standing on the street screaming

For bread and entertainment

Still I have to build a new small world

That is working and thriving

Like the Stoics, long gone and

Still very present

Dealing With It All

For a long time

I was Striving to avoid

Dealing with

All the problems

They were so many,

So complicated,

And foremost,

They involved conflicts

Negotiations with other

That I felt so indebted to

But most of all it meant

That wiping up the dust

Making life more unpleasant

Than it already was

In the end

I realised that it wouldn’t matter

And my bad life

Would stay so bad

If I did not try to

Deal and solve

The problem

Remains

History is what remains

Things that is not here

But could have been

What is not happening

As well as what is going on

What we did not do

As well the results of what

We did a long time ago

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