Värmland Pride 2016 -foto från paraden i Karlstad

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Moulder away, you heavy armors of Fear!

Fall down, you high walls of protection!

Open and feel, you blinded eyes and freezing hearts!

 

Come out, come forward, you great peace of Mind!

Show us your strength and your healing power.

And be the guide that brings all the lost souls back Home.

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All rights reserved. Copyright ©Oladatter 2016

 

 

Together for a Sunday in the Park – A documentary of our Time

The Sundays in the park is looking slightly different…

The surreal feeling of time standing still.

The new togetherness makes me feel yet more alone.

No eye contact. No smiles to brighten your day.

And I wonder; what are we learning?  What wisdom will be the outcome?

At least we are getting outside our doorsteps?

I feel old…

I feel scared.

For these monsters are starting to feel very real!

And I am LOST

 

All rights reserved. Copyright ©Oladatter 2016

A Tale from the living room floor – about the small things growing big

The house is breathing peace and quiet. My Man leisurely laying on the couch with his book. Looking satisfied and relaxed, he is.  Not taking any notice of me, lying here on the floor. Invisible and unimportant. To him. That book is so much more important. To him.

I know I shouldn’t be here. Not like this, on the living room floor. I’m not aesthetic correct, black and dirty as I am. And I don’t exactly smell like a summer meadow. I belong in the laundry.

He has no idea the time is already passed four…..

The front door is opened from the outside world. Shoes and jacket being left in the hall way. Then the feeling of a never ending heavy silence. A long dejected sigh…..And the storm is here. The explosion of loud and angry words:

Why am I laying on the floor? Why am I ALWAYS on the floor. One day in the living room, another day in the bedroom, the bathroom…. Or in any other room. Why am I always everywhere else than in the only place I belong, in the bloody laundry??! Why don’t you ever learn?

Angry footsteps approaching me. Fast and angry hands picking me up. Carrys me to the bathroom and throws me in the laundry. Then angry footsteps again. Another door…. And the quietness is back. Not as peaceful as a moment ago. But quiet.

From the bathroom shelf I hear a long relieved sigh from the toothpaste tube; puh, it wasn’t me this time.

But I know, tomorrow it may very well be the toothpaste tube. You see, it’s very hard to learn how to squeeze it on exactly the right place. Or it could be me. Again.

I don’t harm, lie or cheat.

I don’t drink, fight or kill.

I just don’t seem to be right, or belong everywhere. I may not look or smell so good all the time. But don’t  tell me small things can’t make a difference. I have the power to change everything just by being in the wrong place. I have the power to create thunder storms and change peace to war. Just for being me.

And I am not big at all……

I am, after all, just a pair of dirty stockings!

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All rights reserved. Copyright  ©Oladatter 2016 . Featured image by ©IM PHOTO

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wildheart – a true tale from the forest

Death called her name

The Calling from the Forest, even louder

Sticks lying there, quietly on the ground.

No eyes. No mouths. No visible hearts. Yet speaking to her.

 

With her tender hands she brings them to her place

Giving them  faces

Giving them words.

And they speak. The words of wisdom. The words of enlightment.

 

Her friends. Close to her heart.

Returning her gift.

Giving her life. Bringing her joy.

Tell me; who would not cry, letting go of such friends?

 

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”The forest is my University and the sticks are uniquely inspiring teachers”

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”My professional stick picking is my revolution against the law of Jante”

Stick Art by Vildhjärta:

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All pictures by ©IM Photo  ©Oladatter All rights reserved