Little things to love

Don't you just love it when your university literature contains poetry?

Or when a sole measure like the usage of words can make your day?

Like tonight's taxi-driver, or my proffessor in Soviet-studies' soothing story-telling voice?

Don't you just love it when you can find love in these little things?

There's something so calming about that fact.

There's

still

hope.

I think I'll be happy after all.

Honungste

trasig röst,
kläder tunna
detta smutsiga lik
vars varma toner är
sedan länge,
försvunna,

det ger mig kväljningar än
när du passerar -
tankar svedda i tenn

den där blicken som vet
och smutsen
allt jävla klet
allt jävla svek
allt det där,
allt
du vet

men jag önskar dig glädje
jag är honung i teet
och jag ser dig på håll
jag ser dig som den du är
jag ser den bördan du bär
nu, när jag inte längre finns här

- Litage

Because I so seldom write in Swedish.

On Campus

View from my favourite lecture-hall!

It's amazing how something can be so ugly on the outside, and so pretty from the inside - I hereby declare the Adam Smith building a real life "Ugly Duckling" - Thank you H.C. Andersen for teaching me that lesson!

It just had to be given some room somewhere.

Back in Glasgae

“I don't see much sense in that," said Rabbit. 

"No," said Pooh humbly, "there isn't. But there was going to be when I began it. 

It's just that something happened to it along the way.”

 - A. A Milne

I've been a bit busy lately, meeting people I've missed back home and all that. I had a great Christmas and New Years also, it was all really warm and winter-welcoming the way that I think is very special for smaller places like Sweden. Oh well, nuff bout that. Thought I'd issue a wee dandy potpurri of what's been going on in dear old Glasgow since I came back a week ago.

Miss. I-can-never-take-serious-photos...

... And the scary lovely Glasgow-gang at the Bookclub...

... the new phone measuring capacity on the campus-grounds...

... proving itself worthy. The sunset really does look like a sunset, don't it?

Two freakishly handsome people that spice Glasgow up with good chit-chat...

... and the University's own brand of spice...

... and, finally, my own spice: A fun Chilean tv-series...

and the only meat-dish I now know how to conjure out of my ridiculous chef-hands.

And finally a rather cheesy song that I completely adore, since a few moments ago. Call me lovey dovey or whatever, but I'd actually really like to make a duet (guy/girl-style) out of this piece of marvel!

Kiss Me - Ed Sheeran

.

Respect

There's something seriously wrong with a person stealing a jacket, in the middle of the frigging cold winter, with no value except that it's warm... I really hope it serves that person well, and that it was well-needed, rather than something retrieved just in the "heat" of the moment.

Men are respectable only as they respect

- R. W. Emerson

Svensk Christmas i Glasgow

Lusseverkstad med söta små nissar

Inte så lussiga lussebullar... vad hände egentligen med all saffran?!

Pojkarna i Mario-Kart turnering

The taste of iron

In the sullen and damp,
Urban, muddy and grey
there is no more than death
of a shimmery tale


With a shivering hand
remove layers of pale
And the parting with life
When this girl is for sale

Where the bridges have burnt
Leaving jacks in her skin
And there's not much to lose
But there's nothing to win

There's a sign in the night
She has already left
And , taking her life
Is no longer a theft

So she parts on a train
Weary, quivering, cold
But yet - she wakes sweaty,
And nauseous with pain

And the blood from her nose
It has dried on her lip
With that bitter, grim taste
Eager hands on her hip

She remains where she is
No more trips to afford
She's a doll to the world
To be used,
when man
is bored.

- Litage