Walking home and counting. One-thousand-and-fourty-five steps to pass a graveyard. One-thousand-four-hundred-and-twenty-eight a forest. Intermingled amount from the last crossroad to home door (through mail box). Eleven to fetch woolen socks from the entry and nine stretched ones back to the working table. How many steps taken this year and were they all in different places. How many steps it would take to get you all here for a cup of tea and a blueberry cake.
Frankie Magazine (issue 39) has a small illustration and a few words by me about the town I live in. For the image I chose things that are common to all the places that I have lived in. I still think them all being homes of mine.
Snow hills on windows, like secret adventure landscapes. Silent adventures for the last days of this year and a gentle entrance for the coming one. Thank you for this year, thank you for your company!
Hearts filled with eucalyptus, orange and birch tree scents,