Gott Nytt År från Prag!

  Sumpbäver eller nutria i Kyje utanför Prag.

                                              

Czech Christmas Cookies - Cukrovi

Önskar alla en GOD JUL!

Juletid i svåra tider

Fair is not the word

I realize more and more that I am a prisoner of my own words. My thoughts I can give free movement, they come and go as they please, change and return to the same standpoint. Amazing, the brain. How we can let go our imagination and worries, lte them mingle with thoughts of lines in a book intertwine with questions from a teenager and the sound from a radio in the background. All is digested and melted down. But the words on a piece of paper is truly a different matter. That what goes on in the brain become blobs, black signs on a paper. So difficult the process from brain to pen. Keep thinking of Saul Bellow, whose book I am reading, and of Bergman´s style of writing. What they have in common is to grab you, hold you down, almost violenty. You just cannot let go, must read on, you are sucked into the events taking place in front of you on the page, in the back of your head. Even once you put down the book, the letters rest, your mind goes off wandering, images come up and you see Ingmar shouting, trying to tell the actors what he feels in German, a langauge he thought he mastered.