I suddenly remember having a dream
the night before leaving Sweden for the States.
Now I can't even understand how I could forget.
It was vivid and strong
and left an eerie feeling in me long after I had woken up.
I had slept at my friend's place
to make sure I awoke in time
and didn't miss my train to the airport.
I told her the dream upon awakening.
We both thought I was just being nervous
for travelling alone and stay away from home
for longer than I had sofar in my life.
But it was my first apocalyptic dream in years
and very dramatic too.




In it the whole world was preparing to meet the end.
Airports were filled with people trying to get to their loved ones,
going home to whatever they'd left behind.
In the dream I perceived the threat
as that of an approaching nuclear blast
or something similar.
I just took it for granted, I guess.
I'm late to the airport and all the planes are already packed.
But in the very last second
I manage to get the last seat with a group of young folks
just about to close the door on their aircraft.
And it turns out it's just the few of us,
an intimate circle of friends; five, six persons at most.
One of them was flying the plane.

As we took off
they began to play music and dance.
It may appear like a strange thing to do
but I immediately understood
that they had all decided to remain joyful
and in good vibes
while meeting the end of their lives.
Almost as if they knew
that their mindset would determine
their death experience
and perhaps even their eternity.
They played their favourite songs, danced
and would simply not let anything get them out of balance
or come in the way of their peace and joy.
But my heart was pounding hard.
My mind racing.
I wasn't handling this as well as I would have hoped.
In spite of all my existential perspectives on life,
years of spiritual practices and a heap of songs about
the inevitability of death,
I was still overcome and ridden by anxiety and fear.
No matter how I tried to chillout,
it burned in me like a fever.
But as I watched them dance
in the midst of my anxiety I also felt awed and grateful
for having been lead to these exact people
and get to be in their strongly positive company
during my very last moments upon the earth.
It was as strange and perfect
as grace in hell.





They landed the plane
by the edge of a great forest.
As we began to lose height I knew immediately
there was no way we would ever be able
to lift from here again.
This was final destination.
Nowhere.

The door opened into the woods.
I was the last one out.
I watched the their backs as they danced
ahead into the dark trees, softly singing.
I stumbled out after them
to the sound of my pacing heart and breath.
And the last thing I thought
was that it was so right of them to have chosen this spot.
It was like pure genious,
and at the same time perfectly obvious
to have brought us out of the city and into the forest.

Of course, I thought.
- When you die
where do you wanna be,
in Babylon
or in nature?

What I will take to heart from the dream
is that fear is futile.
If this is it, this is it.
But also that when the shit hits the fan
I'd rather be among dancing people
in the company of trees and with grass under my feet.

Just as I followed my dreams in coming to the States
I will also continue to venture with them
and get on a plane away from here.

My dreams lead me to this place.
And now they lead me on.
Sweden
I'm coming home.









(Forest pic. sampled from a desktop image
downloaded from the internet a week before departure for the states.
Artist unknown)

A few months back in Sweden
everytime I entered my local paper store
I was drawn to the cover of a graphic novel.
I always picked it up, browsed through it
but put it back on the shelves again.
On my way home it would still be on my mind
and I was kind of fascinated
with the mysterious way it appealed to me,
for I could see no apparent reasons
for it to be doing so.





One day I picked it up and told myself
that I would soon find out why it was calling me.
A few days later
the Fever Ray album hits the stores
and the cover illustration is strikingly similar in style
to that of the book that had been haunting me for weeks.
I immediately went to the store
and bought my copy.





As I entered Paper Cut on Krukmakargatan in Stockholm
oddly enough
the Fever Ray album was humming from the speakers.
As I payed for the book I mentioned
that I had been attracted to it for weeks
but that it was the cover art of the Fever Ray album
that now finally made me buy it.
The man behind the counter then told me
that Karin of Fever Ray actually had bought the book
from him little over two years ago.
Interesting, I thought
and looked forward to see what it was about.
I decided to bring it with me on the plane to NYC
and read it on my journey.





The story is about a strange bug, a virus
that infects american yuth just as school's out for summer.
Those who catch the bug begin to develop different animal traits.
One tries to hide a tail growing under her skirt,
anothers face is covered with fur and so on.



I loved the vibe of the book.
It was strange and hypnotic to read.
But before I know it
suddenly I'm half a world away from home,
with the news and headlines stirring up a Swine Flu panic
just as summer is approaching.
Also there's this animal reference
in both the name of the flu and in the graphic novel.

Normally I'd retreat to the countryside,
chillout and wait to see what happens.
But between me and the lush forests of Sweden
lies a serious and difficult decision to be made.
According to media it's getting worse.
But it's hard to know what's true these days.

The World Health Organisation
has now raised threat level to five out of six.
That's only one step away from total lock down,
shutting down airports, quarantaine,
people in rubber suits, masks
and stuff you only see on film.



I'm sitting by my computer
looking at a possible booking of a ticket
home to Sweden on friday.
My doubts says stay
but paranoia says get out now
while you still can.
I'm stuck between the arrogant idea
that something like that simply wouldn't happen to me,
and a gaping black hole of fear.

I love my stay here.
There is so much life in this city.
But I've also seen something shine with its absence.

If I said that in New York
everyone is longing for love,
it would be quite a sad statement.
The idea of a city where you can see
the lack, need and longing for love
in the eyes of everyone you meet
is to me a very melancholic one.
But it would also be a lie.
The truth is even worse.
With all its wonders and enchantments
New York is still perfectly unromantic.
Everyone seems to be here for other reasons.
And love is just not on the list.

On a Kate Moss poster
someone has written
"Rich girls break your heart
Poor girls steal your money."





I had an inspiring music talk with a friend
and producer colleague of mine,
visiting NYC for just a few days
to hang out with his american girlfriend.
While she was busy working
we killed a few hours on the streets
discussing my last album
and how I should definitely
explore a different sound this time around.
We discussed how Songs From the Silent Years
was extremely well produced
and in retrospect almost too nice,
too neat and overall soothing in its sound.
We talked about our love for contrasts,
how the sweet becomes so much sweeter
next to the sour.
I wrote in my notebook
"Mix the soft with the hard
The beautiful with the ugly,
the refined with the raw.
Dream in vivid, electric colors
Then add dirt."

A friend of mine was shaken and upset
after been invited to his neighbor's
newborn son's circumcision.
At first I smiled upon hearing it
but he burned his eyes into me
and went into great detail about
how he had entered a room full of well dressed people
while a rabbi talked cheerfully,
holding a newborn infant in his hands.
Then the rabbi lightly slapped the baby's penis a few times,
provoking a slight reaction in the organ.
Then he put a sort of tight peg around the foreskin
so that the top of it was pressed together,
sticking out on the other side of the peg.
Lastly he took a sharp razor and moved it swiftly
back and forth across the peg, slashing away
the skin from the infants penis in a few fast moves.
Blood poured and the child screamed at the top of his lungs.
People cheered and applauded
and it was time for lunch.



The thing that hit him hardest, my friend said,
was that although he was not of their faith
he had been the only one truly watching the spectacle,
not taking his eyes off the baby, sharing its pain and shock
while everyone else in the room just turned and looked away
when the boy's genitals were mutilated.
In my friend's opinion
he had witnessed a helpless child's impregnation
of severe sexual trauma;
something he was sure would follow the boy
s u b c o n s c i o u s l y
and express itself in different ways
for the rest of his life.
"A room full of grownups, he said angrily,
and a most bizarre, dark and sickening ritual
consisting of inflicting a trauma on a baby infant
that not even the perpetrators themselves can stand to watch?!"
He shook his head.
This had clearly ruined both his day
and the relationship to those next door forever.
There goes the neighborhood.



Even though I had only been told the story
the vivid images lingered in my mind for hours.
On my way home I though
Dear great and holy Spirit of all that is,
Let me not lose my humility
and respect for other's faiths.
I wish to accept the fact
that there are other beliefs than my own.
But I need Your help now
because I'm dangerously close
to having bad thoughts,
feelings of resentment
and passing judgment.

I had just eaten my meal at a Mexican restaurant
and was on my way out the door
when a young waiter in ill fitting costume
accidentally spilled both of his big drinks
right into the lap of one of his customers.
The whole place halted for a second.
The gentleman stood up without a word
and angrily went straight to the restrooms.
The waiter was frozen to the floor, face pale like a sheet,
looking at the empty seat in front of him.

Once out on the street all I could think of
was the look on that waiters face.
The eyes. His notion that in this very second
his life had shifted and taken a turn
he could possibly not have foreseen.
Right now up to seven thousand people a day
lose their jobs in the US.
From one moment to the next
people are literally on the street.
On my way home I hoped he wasn't one of them.



The other day I was at another party
in the gallery I visited a few weeks ago.
It was the closing feast for the same exhibition.
We stayed 'til late and then a few of us ended up
in the artist's loft on lower Manhattan.
He showed me around the place.
In one of the rooms was a statue
of the sacred virgin Mary.
I personally don't invest any deeper reverence
into statues, depictions or artefacts.
So I watched it merely as a piece of art.
Then when everyone else had left the room
the artist turned to me and spoke something in his native toungue.
I stood dumbfounded for a moment.
"Sorry, but... I don't understand" I said.
But he just turned towards the statue, folded his hands
and instantly went into silent prayer.
Like on a sudden signal, without knowing why or how
I immediately did the same, as if in a split second
following someone's sudden leap from the edge off a cliff.
And from one moment to the next my world shifted.
From a casual, light hearted conversation
I was next thrown into a state of deep humility
and wordless communion with the mysterious force
that allows me to breathe, reflect and have my time on earth.

Minutes passed.
Then someone else entered the room.
We looked up and broke it off.



As I left at the first rays of dawn
all I could think was "Thank you
for bringing me Home."
And before going to bed
I sat for a few minutes
contemplating the evening,
then carefully wrote on my notepad
"Krister. Don't forget:
Spend some little time with God every day.
These are without a doubt
the most inportand and real moments
throughout your entire day.
No words. No specific prayer or agenda,
only pure gratitude.
Just turn inwards to the Source
and BE there for a while.
A few minutes is enough.
After all, this is a world of dreams.
You are living a great mirage.
On your journey through the universe
you'll either find or lose yourself.
Don't forget to chose"

Days are getting warmer.
Long, slow walks along the coastline.
Today a friend asked
"NYC. Out of all times, why now?"
I thought for a moment
and realized I've always had someone
that I was afraid to lose.
There was always a relationship
that was more important to me
than my freedom.
This special relationship was always
something I was afraid to leave unguarded
and willing to compromise life for.





Now was the first time
that I had decided to not hold on,
be attatched to or fear the loss of anybody
no matter how much I loved them.
And I do have love in my life. My heart is warm.
But I am watching myself carefully
to not develop ownership issues and co-dependence.
I decided a few years ago
to see if I could break a vicious spell
and disconnect my love and appreciation
from attatchment, jealousy and fear of loss.
Sofar I've managed to experience love and beauty
without developing the need for someone to be "mine."
I thougth this was going to make me lonely.
But the immediate, somewhat unexpected effect
was an immense sense of freedom
and the possibility to travel.



At times I wonder if maybe this choice to be unattatched
simply comes from a fear of getting hurt.
But I feel as if I am confronting an even greater fear
when allowing myself to love someone without restraining them.
In my current stand for freedom
I don't feel like I have given in to my fears
but rather as if I openly challenge them.

Warm, beautiful day.
Met up with friends from Stockholm.
Perfect chill out for hours.
Laughing. Enjoying.





Central Park. Welcoming and soothing.
Soft to the heart and easy on the eye.
Long walk home through the city.
"This Must Be It" on my Ipod.
Feet barely touching ground.
My head clear as day.

Friday.
Turned my day around.
I'm up before noon.
Feeling lighter after a soothing dream
of running in lush, green forests
and having an old wound healed.

Today - Central Park
A pen and notepad
sorting things out.

The heaviness of yesterday
gone already.
Sun on my skin. Fresh air.
I'll savor and treasure this day
and when night comes
I'll welcome and enjoy it thoroughly.

The days are blurring together.
I'm awake all night and sleep 'til afternoon.
Losing sense of time.
I can't escape myself, call a friend and hang out.
Everyone's busy making a living.
I'm left with the task at hand.
Wherever I turn, there it is.
I remember this feeling.
Had almost forgotten about it.
When I did my last album I had to force myself
as if it was a matter of life and death
or ten more years would have passed in the blink of an eye.
This time I thought it would be simple,
that the music would just erupt like a volcano
and write itself for me.





I go out - too much impressions.
Bombarded with stimuli in every direction.
No resting space to hear my thoughts.
I try to block it all out with my Ipod.
But then my head is filled
with someone elses sound instead.





I realize this is not how I'm used to make music.
For years I've gotten used to
a calm and solitude when creating,
allowing an almost effortless listening inwards
and then a simple bringing forth
of whatever is in there.
Here it's like I cant hear anything within
because of the constant roar of streets,
the onslaught of a billion commercials,
and a constant hum of pipelines and air conditioning systems.
Once every fifteen minutes my refridgerator goes wild,
sounding liked a truck is parking in the appartment.

This situation calls for a new method.
Tomorrow I'm gonna sit myself down
and seriously make some plans.

Before coming here I had a strong idea
about the sound and direction of the next album.
But now it's like I'm up at the crossroads.
I've been wondering wether to allow myself
to be sidetracked and influenced by the city,
the music, surroundings and sounds here,
or if I should turn within, reconnect with my original idea
and pursue it as planned.



It's been a bit confusing and a hard decision to make.
But yesterday I made up my mind
to turn inwards and again face the original vision
that so inspired me to come here.
I will start from there.
Then once I begin to craft and manifest it
the smells, sounds, textures and energies around me
will naturally influence and color the process.

After a few days of low in limbo,
stressed and confused by the mere idea
of competing with giants,
climbing up an endless ladder
and running just to stand still,
I came back to the fact that I'm not here
to get something.
And I don't mean just New York.
I mean my life in general.
There is nothing to achieve or conquer
but only to explore and enjoy.
I'm not here because of ambition
but for experience.
I don't seek to be accomplished
but inspired.
There are people here
with skyskrapers named after them
but who are still on a daily treadmill
just to not slam back down on the pavement.
We race to get our faces projected onto clouds
only to dissolve when the sun breaks through,
when this strange dream of life is over
and the sky clears.



Yesterday I spent the whole day
slowly and gently upgrading
the software in my little computer.
Trimming the tools,
downloading new drummachines
and stacking up with fresh sounds
in my digital magic box .
It was a retreat and a refuge.
A sort of homecoming.
Doing instead of thinking.
Then finally, in the middle of night
the first sounds came through the speakers.
And it was suddenly so obvious:
I must never even for a second confuse my life for a career.
At the end of the day
I can take nothing with me where I go.
When my time is up
whatever I've achieved will slip through my fingers.
But when I'm gone from the face of the earth
I may perhaps leave some nice music behind.

Today I've been thinking a lot
about what I've learned lately.
The possible path before me
of tireless climbing
and constant hunt for advancement.
Is that really what I want?
What if I invested my breath
and preciously short life span
in a game without ultimate value.
No winners. Only players. Fighters.
Temporary flashes of transient glory.
Then the never ending strife
not to slide back down again.
And no rest.
No peace.
But sure death.
For what?





For me to play this game full on,
I'd have to love the hunt itself
and not think there could ever be
any other prize at the end than that.
There is no stop at the top.
Nobody here has got enough.
Even the most successful ones
cannot fully enjoy their wealth
but rather has to work even harder not to lose it.
I'd have to be sure I think it's worth it,
to be sweating day and night
to keep the house of cards
from tumbling down upon my head.
Is this what I want from life?
Who said I came here to make it?
What if I didn't come here to fulfill my dreams
but to see through them
and give them up?
What if the glorious prize at the end of my journey
is to return to Sweden free from ambition
and love its calm more than ever?

The Voice tells me to relax
and not jump to conclusions.
"K, what if you're just overwhelmed right now?
What if you're standing at the foot of the mountain
and get blinded by imagining a climb uphill,
not realizing that each step on the way
would simply be a joyous, natural adventure
of doing what you love the most:
Music. Singing. Socializing. Journeying."

My head is spinning.
Got to find peace somewhere.
Time to meditate...

Long Friday. Easter's eve.
I hook up with close friend Claes Appelquist,
architect and resident on Manhattan since many years.
I'm introduced to his girlfriend and closest circle of friends.
Claes began to explain
the basics for getting around in NYC.
He spoke of different codes of conduct,
routines, behavioural patterns,
what to say, what to leave out etc.
And I've come to understand something crucial.
Everyone I'll meet is here for one thing and one thing only:
Their carreer. They're all making their way up the ladder.
Advancing, hunting, working to achieve their goals and dreams.
What you've done elsewhere is of little use.
All that matters is what you've done in New York,
who you know in New York, who introduces you
and who you're introduced to.






There was a party and opening of an arts exhibition
in a loft on Lower East Side.
The artist was a Spanish architect and some of the people there
were colleagues and friends of Claes.





In some of his works the artist had taken known photographs
of suffering prisoners in Abu Graib / Guantanamo
and turned them into icons.
I recognized some of the images from before
but they had always been fleeting, passing by.
Here they stayed put and bore witness,
challenging me to face them
and stay with them long enough
to take them in and at last let them get to me.
He explained the origins of each piece,
while sharing his thoughts about them
and letting me into his world.





The usual suspects. Feast in the free world.
But underneath the surface, cracks in the pavement.
The temple is slowly coming apart
and everywhere people talk about the recession.
Nobody is safe. All worries what tomorrow will bring.
It doesn't matter who you are or what you do.
From one week to the next people are out of jobs.
It's late on planet earth.
But for a seemingly random selection of fortunate souls
the hunt persists. The chase is still on
and we party our way through the darkest of hours.

Tonight I had my first social evening since getting here.
A friend of mine celebrated her birthday
in a beautiful restaurant uptown.
Among her friends was the striking woman
who's company had designed the interior.
And another friend of hers
was a professional Dating Consultant.
He was there with his dearly beloved.
I found his line of work fascinating.
After the evening had passed
he turned to me with fiery eyes and said
"Now that I've got a little background on you,
do you want to know what you are?"





Although I hadn't hidden anything
I also knew I hadn't said much
and was somewhat surprised
if he would have read me as an open book.
He gave me the diagnose
"Polar Opposing Insecurity Compensation"
Interesting, I said. And what is that?
He said
"You've come to realize you got a gift.
At the same time this gift of yours
prevents you from feeling loved
for who you really are.
So now you try to be a nobody."



I was thrilled.
It was an appealing idea to have my condition
named and explained so easily.
I tasted it carefully, repeating it to myself.
"Polar Opposing Insecurity Compensation."
He smiled and continued.
"So... You got this thing wich makes you special.
Like we all do, really. Only it makes you also feel
cut off and separate.
You're on plus,
but instead you stretch for the minus.
And once you're on the minus, that don't feel right either
coz there you diminish yourself.
Truth is you're neither of them.
But somewhere in between."






On my way home I thought
"Strange.
And I who've always feared
that I am a nobody trying to come off as a somebody."
At first I thought this meant he was perhaps wrong about me.
Only to realize that this was just the other side
of the very same spectrum.
The opposing pole.

But before going to sleep
I finally settled in the middle,
remembering what I knew to be my own truth:
I AM really nobody.
My true nature is beyond the personal.
The ego is illusory,
a mirage arising from mere point of view.
I am not trying to diminish myself.
I simply do my best
to remain in touch with the fact
that I don't exist.

Finished the song today.
Sent the files to Stockholm for mixing.
Worked all day in the studio
and then went for an evening walk.
Sensing a deeper peace each day.
Cold outside. Stores were open.
Music pumpin' loud in the Virgin Mega Store.
People browsing CD's n movies.
Even this totally commercial place
had a nice vibe to it.





Home early.
Together with the calm
there's a growing warmth in me.
The love I discovered the other day
hasn't left me yet. On the contrary
it's growing in my chest.
Spreading to my stomach.
For no reason at all, with no object or direction.
I need to lay everything else aside
and just be with it. So seldom and rare.
Pure, needless and unconditional love.
For nothing special. For just being.
Brushed my teeth with gratitude and went to bed.
Tried reading a page in a book
but I simply got too much love in me.
I turn off the lights so I can just lay with it.
While gently holding the pillows and covers in my embrace
I let this almost unbearable affection
smile me to sleep.
Thank You so much, Source of existence,
you loving dreamer of my life
for being in me.
For letting your love swell in me
and blessing me from within.

Took the subway downtown today.
Did every New Yorker's tube routine
of refilling my card with markers
and went underground.
I was all smiles.
For me this was a dream come true.
sitting in the chromed cars I've seen
on film since my grafitti adolescence.
Back then Stockholm's green and blue cars
were a sad mockery to every writer's exquisite taste
and sleepless nights of hard work.
We were true artists. But outlaws.
In a perfect world
we would have sat in their office
smoking peace pipe with their chiefs and said
"No, don't color 'em, idiot. Leave 'em like that.
Chrome 'll be just fine, thank you.
We'll add the color ourselves."





I went to SOHO and bought a pair of jeans.
Then ate my dinner in an organic food restaurant,
The man at the table next to me asked where I was from.
Originally born in Kongo, I told him,
but raised and living in Sweden.
He said he was from Puerto Rico
and was raised in New York.
But, he said, he had felt like part of himself was missing,
as if disconnected from his soul
and had gone to stay in Puerto Rico for five years,
learning spanish and embracing his true heritage and culture.
Only then did the pieces fall into place
and he became whole, he said.





I thought about Africa
and how I've always wondered
how come I'm not drawn there.
"You gotta connect with your heritage
and find yourself before ya die" he said.
I looked at him and he nodded.
Before ya die" he repeated seriously.
And in his eyes I read him saying
"America does things to you.
You better know who you are.
Or it will turn you into somebody you aren't."

That which began to settle some days ago
is starting to feel almost natural today.
I'm somehow gently caressed
by a steadily growing sense of belonging.
Back home in Sweden
small groups of people move about on the weekends
The streets may not be entirely empty
but there's still a sense of loneliness there.
Even among crowds.
But here it's the other way around.
There's so many people everywhere
that even when I manage to find an empty spot
the city breathes beneath my feet.
It's not just the people. This very place is alive.
Who would need to be social
if they never felt alone.




I went for a long walk. Camera in back pack
and Animal Collective on my Ipod.
It has somewhat become
my resident soundtrack these days.
I've tried to switch to other stuff
but find myself returning to them.
I think it's because their album
is the most childishly free, flipped out,
trippy, happy and least predictable music
that I got on my entire Ipod.
Suddenly everything else
sounds boring and depressive.
I end up with their track "In The Flowers"
on repeat for hours.





I walked 'til I finally got to the edge of the city
where the colorful lights of neon faded
and walls gave way for nameless spaces.
The air was different here.
Clear and fresh. Somehow bright.





And I smellt the sea. It's scent filled me
with something I can only describe as love.
I found it here at the edge of the city.
The feeling I'd fogotten I longed for.
And it didn't leave. It wasn't fleeting or passing.
It stayed. Lingering with each breath.
Faithful. Untreacherous.





I walked slowly along the coastline
and saw the sun go down on New York.
Runners. Skateboards and roller blades.
Couples holding hands. Girls on bikes.

On my Facebook a friend in Stockholm had written
that Animal Collective comes here to play in may.
I won't miss it for anything in the world.

Been editing the vocals I recorded the other day.
Already notice a shift in my voice. Something less restraint.
It's like my Swedish holding back is already melting.
The mere feeling of being totally anonymous,
the sense that nobody cares who you are, what you do,
how it sounds and so on, is already freeing my expression,
changing my tone.

Short breaks for air.
Quiet walks in the sun.

I went to the cinema on friday night.
Got a ticket for The Haunting in Connecticut.
Based on a true story, it says.
Love going to the cinema alone.
After the film I noticed nobody was watching
the doors to the other films. And they were all open,
people walking in and out as they pleased.
So I simply sneaked next door
and wathced Tim Burton's new animated flick,
Coraline.




Weekends. Market at Union Square.
Organic and ecological. Crowded.
I saw a thief today. He went up to the counter
and took a bucket of organic youghurt.
Then stood in line as if he was gonna pay
but I immediately knew he wasn't.
I noticed him because of his fast, shifting eyes.
His head was still but his eyes kept us all in check.
Then he gradually advanced backwards.
People filled up the space between him and the counter
and he was gone.
At first I went slowly through the crowd after him.
I think I just wanted to let him know
that he had been observed, that's all.
But the Voice told me to immediately let it go.
"No, K. Just watch.
That good samaritan style of yours won't work here.
You haven't seen nothing yet.
Chill out, watch carefully but think twice
before you put your nose in others affairs,
or chances are you return to Sweden in a box.
Pay attention, and I'll show you how all sorts of people
survive and make their living in the Big Apple."

Slept like a baby tonight.
The sounds of saturday people
soft and soothingly filtered in my dreams.

Skipped sleep again. The cheapest high there is.
Instead I wrote melody, words and recorded vocals
for a track a friend in Stockholm has made
for the subtitles in a Swedish film.
I don't like to sleep during the day
so when the night is over I stay awake 'til the following evening.
Second time this week now.



"You were under my skin
The life in my vains
My blood and my breath
all whispered your name
But I was forced to let go
or clash with your fate
And then come to terms with
never seeing you again
But as I step out through the open door
I wonder what I have been waiting for"


Excerpt from untitled track.
Written for film.
Release autumn 09

I noticed a calm today. Something begins to settle.
Long slow walks. Finding my own pace.
Headpones on. Music turned down low.
Notepad and camera in the back pack.
The only time I speak is when I need to ask for directions.
It's sooting and peaceful by oneself.
A rare blessing to be of no concern.



Have switched off my phone and dodged everyone for days.
Friendly messages on my voice mail.
But I want to stay lost just a little longer.

City of glass cathedrals
Built upon shattered dreams
On a million silent wishes
Murmured in restless sleep



City of names forgotten
Where the favourites of the last decade
In a daze aimlessly drifting
Further away day by day



Through the streets of amnesia
And boulevards of broken hearts
Running desperately to meet ya
Still we're lightyears apart



"City of Silent Wishes" (DIVE. Transmit/Receive 1994)

Haven't slept since wednesday. Not even layed down.
Spent the long night by the computer
and the whole day walking.
Sun was up. Spring hit New York like a love bomb.
T-shirts. Skirts. Skaters. And music from virtually every shop
and restaurant on the lower East side...

N.Y.C.

Basking in invisibility. Blending into walls and sidewalks.
Merging with glass, concrete, smells of restaurants,
car sirens and a nameless, faceless cascade of people of all sorts.
I am everyone and nobody. Transparent.
A mere current in the stream of souls.