WALKING HOME AT TWELVE O´CLOCK P.M.

I took the bicycle down to the Metro. However, when I thought about returning home there was a strike and I had to walk back.

For several years they have been constructing a Metro station by Colosseum. Work began in 2013 and might finish in 2024, though this is doubtful. Metro line C cuts straight through the very heart of Rome. The ground is unstable and insecure, filled with remains of ancient structures. They work day and night. Below me tunnels were dug through ancient Roman military barracks - more than thirty rooms decorated with wall frescoes and mosaic floors. 

The town was quiet and almost empty.

Giorgio Castriota, called Skanderbeg, born 1405 in Kruja, Alabania, died in Lezha 1468. 

The pyramid of Rome, built 18 -12 BC as a tomb for Gaius Cestius, priest and head of one of ancient Rome´s four religious congregations, Septemviri EpulonumThat is all we know about him.

Stazione Ostiense, underpasses.

Eataly

Someone lives here the entire year. He puts flowerpots in front of his trailer. I wonder who he is. Someday I will ask him.

The marketplace in Garbatella.

House entrances are lit all night.

Ponte Settimia Spizzichino

My bicycle was still standing by the Metro station.

Almost home.

BLOG LIST

My life has been long and often quite incomprehensible. My memory has several shortcomings. In some cases it may be comforting to forget all about some of the past actions and events, since certain memories may be quite worrying, perhaps even scary. In the darkness surrounding them memories might...
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Wherever we exist we live in parallel worlds; other contexts, other lives, other families. We live our lives within given coordinates. Sometimes we get an opportunity to have a look into a completely different existence. Such meetings can be unexpected and beyond our everyday life. Like a few weeks...
Var vi än befinner oss existerar parallella världar; andra sammanhang, andra liv, andra familjer. Vi lever våra liv inom givna koordinater. Ibland får vi en möjlighet att blicka in i en fullkomligt främmande tillvaro. Sådana möten kan vara fullkomligt oväntade, bortom vår egen vardag. Som för några...
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Såå… stanna upp, andas ut. Det är varmt, solen strålar från en klarblå himmel. En mild bris, intet mer. Fönster och dörrar står öppna, tyllgardiner fläktar svagt. Mitt barnbarn – en mycket liten människa, ny i världen. Så vacker, hjälplös och trygg i min famn. Vilka mirakler är inte barn. Deras...
During the days before the French election, I wondered what has happened and will happen. How has all this insanity become possible? How has fear and intolerance once again been allowed to control our feelings, thoughts and choices? Why do so many choose to follow paths that previously have led us...
Inför valet i Frankrike har jag undrat över vad som har hänt och kommer att hända. Hur har allt detta vansinne blivit möjligt? Hur har rädsla och intolerans åter kunnat tillåtas styra våra känslor, tankar och val. Varför väljer så många att följa stigar som tidigare lett oss i fördärvet. Tack och...
In the countryside, by our house in Bjärnum - within the woods by the lake, the sound of spring can be heard; birdsong and how the wind sweeps through crowns of beech tree forests. Their buds opened during night and fresh leaves now span a shimmering vault of new born greenery above smooth, silvery...
Ute på landet, i vårt hus i Bjärnum – i skogen, vid sjön, hörs vårens ljud; fågelsången och hur vinden sveper genom nyutslagna bokars kronor, ropen från vildfågelsträck som flyger norrut. Ensamheten förstärker ljuden. Då jag i skymningen ror över den stilla sjön skvalpar årorna rofyllt mot vattnet,...
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