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Jag kommer och berättar sagor om livet, himlen, jorden och allt däremellan

The Camel Toe

The silver fish jumped through the Eye of the camel

We are the ones who picked the strawberries, we are the ones who planted the seeds, we are. We wander along the sea, we are many, we are together. We go further than usual, we go far because we cooperate. We dare. We are careful. We don't fight but we are aware that there is a war going on underwater. A secret war. Where the children steal minutes from the adults. Where the adults pay with cheesecakes and cigarette butts among the secret monster songs of the bushes. Where the waves crash against the shore, where the seals ride in blue water slides down on the meadow. That's the point. For us. As she said, she who wrote in Arbetaren. The newspaper that burned. It burns in your head. Do you have fire in your head? We know she exists. She who wrote about psychosis, mass psychosis, what was it called? The one that came right then when we met, I don't remember. But anyway. Some kind of mass hysteria, it was anyway. The hysteria. The magical dancer. In the glow of the phosphorescence. She who crawls up out of the water, back down into the mud and then moves like a Valkyrie through all the worries and sorrows of tomorrow. She. We have all seen her. Heard her, felt her. She is a part of us. She is here now. Time to wake up, jalla it's our turn, she saw me on the wagon and I saw her, our eyes met - obviously. And she asked - should I hold your water bottle? Okay, I said and we danced on, I thought that was the tram ride of my life and fell further out onto the main square towards... her... we shared a strawberry smoothie at the central station and he let me pee for free in the basement, I sang for him all the way on the bus home, I know he would have come home to me and given me that if he could, but there were other passengers on board and she was one of them. One of us.

Nelly Sachs, Sarah Kane, Amy Winehouse, Karin Boye, Lilith, Agathe, Persephone, Idun, Hel, Sphinx, Beyonce, Robyn, One Thousand and One Nights... Slowly, now, now now... She is coming, she is on her way, she rises like a mountain wall over him and lets herself sink into the lust of the flesh. He eats her with never-ending appetite, he waits, trembles, waves wash over her soft, tense trunk. She is fantastic, he is a parenthesis. They are together, a ship on its way to new horizons. Go, you, I'll stay here, she said. Leave me here to die, it's okay. All this can be for your sake. I'll do it. I love you to pieces if that's what you want, for us. For us.

For her, a final farewell song, a final dismissal, arrangement, uncertainty, frantic thought, pounding heartbeat, trembling out into nothing

All this is yours

What? She thought

Yes, just like that, he said, yours

Mine?

Sure

Okay?

Yes, go now

Where?

Home

To the sea?

Yes

Home to you

Okay

Thank you

She said

And went

Home

To herself

And then she lived happily ever after

Snip, snap, snout, the story is over

But she kept on going, up the hill, down and in and out and in again, like a crazy needle, an inkspouting needlefish that fearlessly stiches the bodies

She really loved needlework, she was a seamstress, a knitter, that's what she was!

"Who am I then?" she thought.

"I am the knitter!" echoed the mountain wall.

"Oh," she said, ducking. "It must have been someone else who said that."

"Who am I then?"

"I am..." said the mountain wall.

She couldn't take it in.

She walked and walked, from door to door, knocking and knocking until answered.

Then she stepped inside

Hello

Hello

Yes

Yes

I am

I am.

Oh my...

I apologize

Would my most delightful gentleman please ask my forgiveness?

Please, sir, mister masculine himself?

Could you possibly imagine submitting to the final apologetic annointing of my bare bottom?

Nuh-huh, just what I thought

We're even then

Thank you

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