It’s autumn in Lund and every day the streetlights are turned on a little earlier. Loads of tea and socks on socks. Blankets and hugs and breathing in your hands because you forgot your gloves. Again.
Beautiful, beautiful autumn.
The black stripes on my pillow are no more, instead I try to focus all I have on finding an apartment. At this point I’m concerning finding a box. Maybe a few flowers, my father’s jumper which can be used as a tent and it would make a small but comfortable home.
Lately all has been black and white. The sky agrees. I don’t know when it’s going to rain, when the tears will silently make lakes on my pillow again and leave black stripes which when the sun comes out remind me that it hasn’t always been that easy. It isn’t now.