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    Lina and Papaya. When I was arriving home to sweden after the months in France I was stying one night in Karlstad with my best friend Lina. It was a silent saturdaynight and we spoke. Lina was sharing the sofa with Papaya and their form was making a golden cut. The ambience was calm, quiet jazz was whispered out from the corner of the room, the light was softly colored in gold and while her story was mapped out I saw her as on a stage, like as her life was a piece of theather, written and directed by herself. She is a mainactor in a film that can win…

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    Kustremsan mellan Biarritz och Bordeaux. Vi for dit bara รถver en dag och nรคr jag sรฅg det desperata ljuset som kysste alla surfvรฅgor frรฅn bilfรถnstret fick chauffรถren stanna med tjutande dรคck. Jag sprang bort รถver stranden och kรคnde galenskapen rycka i hรถger pekfinger. Det pรฅminde mig om Lofoten och Sydafrika pรฅ samma gรฅng. Haven รคr det som fรถrenar vรคrlden. Jag visste att det skulle bli bra bilder men nu nรคr jag sitter med 150 bilders material har jag svรฅrt att vรคlja, jag tycker sรฅ mycket om varje bild. De liknar dock varandra. Har jag fastnat i ett bildsprรฅk, mรฅste jag vidareutveckla mig? Pinnen som lรฅg krรถkt uppspolad av alla surfares…

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    Today we had a fire in the garden. The natures smell was a blend of soil, earth, smoke and life. The smell of spring…. Doften av vรฅr… L รฒdeur printemps…. The afternoon was magic, a scen from an adventures drama. Lukas was Huckleberry Finn and I was Frodo. The only way to survive was to keep the fire of wet leaves alive. That it can be so magic to fix in the garden!