The Known and Unknown

From yesterday’s walk along the beach here in Vejbystrand. Cold, windy yet stunningly beautiful. So far, far away from the turmoil and chaos of many of the world’s great cities and many of my favorite destinations. Thankfully, neither Charlotte or I know of anybody that has caught the virus yet. I doubt that statistic will hold indefinitely. It’s kind of like with Trump supporters, you know they are out there, in droves, even. And one day, you might actually meet someone that has been infected with his venomous rhetoric. If and when that day arrives, I’m guessing it’s going to feel a lot like being in an episode of the original Twilight Zone.

I speak to a lot of Americans – wherever I am. I just can’t help myself. As soon as I hear an American accent (or, a Canadian), I’m in their face asking them where they come from, where they’ve been and where they are heading. Yet oddly, so far, I’ve not come across a real-life MAGA supporter in any of my travels. Not that I survey the political views of people I meet when abroad…but still.

I’m well aware that there are tens of millions of “normal” Americans among his base. Most seem to cherrypick the stuff that serves their personal narrative and agenda and just ignore much of what comes out of his chaotic, erratic and dysfunctional administration, and the endless flow of mostly degenerate, often racially charged, quips and tweets he heaves round the clock.

I doubt I’ll meet a Trump supporter in Vejbystrand. The locals here are way too sensible to bite into the pile of crap he’s trying to feed the rest of the world. No, to get someone that can coherently defend the blustering, self-congratulatory, master conman, I’d have to fly to the States. And that ain’t going to happen for quite a while. Hopefully, by the time it becomes doable, there’ll be a new president. An older dude, for sure. But at least one with the right stuff: decency, empathy, and intelligence.


Information Overload

From a wall somewhere in Lund. I think the abundance of layers in this particular piece speaks volumes to me about the tsunami of information we are wading in right now. I feel a bit overloaded and need to ration my intake.


Puppy Love

Today we visited a small, family-run kennel a couple of hours from Vejbystrand. Charlotte’s been yearning for a dog for several years and she’s finally narrowed down her choice of breed to the incredibly cute and lovable Dachshund. This will be our third dog after a Miniature Schnauzer and Standard Schnauzer, both of which – like the Dachshund – is of German descent and were once primarily used to capture badgers and rats. The new dog’s name? Lennart.


Growing Stuff and Thinking of Eskil & Agnes

I don’t know exactly why, but I feel proud somehow that my Grandfather and Grandmother were farmers.

There’s something inherently honest about farming. It’s so fundamental to our existence and makes most of today’s professions seem constructed, superficial and retroactively rationalized – until we don’t even question their actual usefulness anymore. 

Come to think about it, most modern occupations only exist as a consequence of our way of life – not because they’re quintessential or critical to our ability to survive as a species.

I have vividly fond memories of staying with Grandpa Eskil and Grandma Agnes as a young boy. Fact is, of all my childhood memories, the couple of years I spent with them – spread over a five or six-year period – were among my best. Now, I don’t know if I’m romanticizing those visits because living with my mother was such a fucking nightmare. Probably. In any case, Grandma Agnes was always extremely kind, gentle, and loving towards me. Which was something I had little experience with but likely helped me gain insight into what selfless love looked, sounded and, felt like.

When I visited, during the early and mid-1970s, the farm was winding down. The cows, chickens, and horses were gone. Ingo, the cute but horrendously smelly Beagle, was still around. Grandpa Eskil, a hopelessly macho man with a prosthetic leg and short temper, still hunted moose and plowed the few fields he had left with an old Volvo tractor and harvester. Eventually, the car manufacturer SAAB absorbed the remaining fields…and so, after their farming days were over, there wasn’t much left for my grandparents to do but get older and eventually pass on.

Aside from those visits to my mother’s parents and growing sunflowers on a balcony in Götebrog when I lived there, I have zero experience in farming. But somehow it feels almost inevitable that I would at some stage in my life explore what it’s like to grow at least some of my own food. And I can’t think of a more apt time than right now to learn how to cultivate at least a few tasty veggies. I’ve got a lot of organic seeds to plant over the next couple of days.


Canola Season

Here’s a video I shot for Erik Schneider a couple of years ago. I came to think of it as I was riding the train today through amazing yellow fields.


Back in Lund today. Sunshine everywhere. Hard to think apocalyptically when the weather is so damn wonderful. Spoke to an old buddy who’s a lawyer and he’s keeping busy. Lots of separations and negotiations. Ae we are holding our breaths? Is the situation going to get a lot worse before getting better?

Another friend told me of a new Swedish airline starting up soon. Sounds hopeful. I feel hopeful. Optimistic, even. Perhaps I’m in denial and not even aware of it. I don’t let my mind swerve too much of Sanity Lane. What purpose would that serve? None. Another friend told me he enjoyed not having to deal with crowds. That he didn’t miss having to share public spaces with others. I totally get that. Like the author Charles Bukowski once wrote, “It’s not that I don’t like people. I just feel better when they’re not around”.

I think that’s pretty much the collective sentiment of my demographic right now.

Shot the above while wandering aimlessly around town this afternoon after the shoot. I tried really hard to get lost today. But Lund is just too small.


Yoga & Qigong

I made this collage for a client a while ago. I used a bunch of photos from different yoga shoots in the old studio (the one next to Turning Torso in Malmö) and then removed the white background in order to create silhouettes of the model which I then added color to.

Now that the sun rises so early, I have no problem waking up at the crack of dawn. My new studio is the smallest I’ve had yet but it is still roomy enough to allow me to practice every yoga pose and Qigong movement I know of. When in Lund, depending on the room I am assigned at the hotel and because I never bring my yoga mat, I stick to a half-hour or forty minutes of intense Qigong.

Charlotte was still asleep when I returned energized and ready to take on the day’s projects. I’m still amazed at how much energy I enjoy after an hour of Qigong and Yoga. I hope to soon be able to practice outdoors on the deck. Or, somewhere in the meadow.


Idiocy & Kleptocracy

Ok, here we go…my Tuesday rant…

You don’t have to be a neurosurgeon, a political science major at a community college or even a uniquely intelligent goldfish to grasp that Donald J. Trump is failing miserably and will prove to be the worst possible president a country, any country, could ever have during a crisis – any crisis.

Not only has he consistently politicized his more or less coherent virus briefings, some of which have been chock full of thoughts, ideas, and analysis that make the man seem as if he’s been snorting huge quantities of bleach, he is now also attempting to cleave the nation even further by openly deciding which states to provide financial aid to based on if they are red or blue. Really? The reoccurring question: is there really no limit to how much shit a 73-year-old can discharge?

From today’s New York Times:

Mayor Bill de Blasio accused President Trump on Tuesday of “stabbing his hometown in the back” by saying that states hit hard by the virus and run by Democrats should not count on what the president called “bailouts” from the federal government.

In an interview with The New York Post published Tuesday morning, Mr. Trump said that it would be “not fair to the Republicans” to give large infusions of aid to states with Democratic governors “that have been mismanaged over a long period of time.”

Like almost no other country in the world, the United States has been hit remarkably hard by the Covid-19 virus. And now, as the pandemic is spreading throughout the country, way beyond big cities and their urban sprawl, some predict that the worse is yet to come.

And while Trump & Co are trying ever so hard to deflect their gross negligence and cavernous ineptitude by blaming China as well as the Dems (clearly interchangeable enemies), the weight of the country’s fragmented, profit-driven health care industry is clearly showing an inability to provide necessary help to the tens of thousands of diseased patients – many of which are among the poorest of the poor. Which in itself is probably the main reason why so many have been so incontrovertibly devastated by the virus in the first place. I mean, it’s not like the healthcare was functioning before this all happened, or, that there wasn’t already an opioid epidemic, a mass-shootings epidemic – not to mention a poverty crisis which has largely been driven by racism – which in turn has only been made worse by the current bigot-in-chief.

It seems pretty clear to me that if a country like India has the ability to contain the virus more efficiently than a developed nation like the US of A, the world’s (former?) most powerful economy, there’s something fundamentally awry with the management team running said country.

Sure, we can all play along with the blame game and point fingers at China, Iran, or even North Korea until doomsday knocks on our doors. But it still doesn’t remove the fact that it was Mr. Trump calling the shots from the Oval from the getgo – and that he has proven time and time again to be too asinine to helm the country – even under “normal” circumstances.

Let’s get one thing straight. I think the United States of America is a great country. I mean that with 100% sincerity. The US has always been a fabulously interesting experiment with tremendous ambitions, incredible successes, and a plethora of unbelievable failures and ongoing shortcomings. The cultural multiplicity and geographical diversity are among many, many allures. But politically, at least on a federal level, the country is in really, really bad shape. Not just because the dude in the White House is a narcissistic kleptocrat, either. Much of those on either side of the aisle in Congress are so out of touch with reality, at least the reality that most Americans live within, so filthy rich and corrupted by their power addiction, they are clearly disinterested in creating any real change that will provide long-term, positive impact. Congess is too focused on reelections, pleasing lobbyist, and political mud fights. And I think millions of Americans are getting to the point where they’re just fed up with well-crafted rhetoric and the political tug o’war that leads absolutely nowhere.

Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if when fall nears and the election craze kicks into full gear, there will be social disruption like we’ve never ever seen before. And I’m actually a bit worried, cause I don’t think it would be beyond Trump to ignite a fire in order to stay in power – regardless of how it goes for him electorally. I’m predicting here and now that as we move closer to November, we’ll also see several political movements stemming from States that are seeking to sever ties with DC and secede the union. Why wouldn’t California or Texas want to become independent nation-states?

I don’t know exactly why, but somehow the Guggenheim in New York photographed October 2018, seemed like a fitting image to accompany today’s rant.

South Sea Serenity in Vejbystrand

Here’s what it looked like just after I got back from Lund yesterday evening. I’m spoiled insofar that I’ve seen many a beautiful sunset. Formations like last night’s magnificent cumulonimbus clouds are still fairly unusual this far north. Reminded me more of the Maldives, Seychelles, and islands in southern Thailand than Vejbystrand. Thankfully, I had the wherewithal to look up from my computer screen, take notice, grab my camera, and perpetuate the unique scene. Later, just as we were trying to fall asleep, a hale storm passed overhead.


Back at Grand

Back at Grand Hotel in Lund again and was briskly checked into a cozy room on the fourth floor yesterday evening. Have a spectacular view of the park and a partial eyeshot of the train station. Supporting a client during a Zoom interview with a stock market analytics firm and then shooting a presentation.


Walk in Sinarpsdalen

Shot these low-hanging flowers (Magnolia blossoms?) during Charlotte and my 7.5k walk this morning in a lush valley not far from Vejbystrand called Sinaparsdalen. It’s one of many mapped walks in and around Hallandsåsen – a hilly area south of Båstad and north of Förslöv. Here’s a satellite view of Sinaparsdalen brought to you by Google. Not many people out and about today – despite really good trekking weather – but those we met kept their distance and we were careful not to touch any of the many wooden gates with our bare hands. Strange times are theses. 


Powerwalk with Swans

Instead of Qigong and Yoga, this morning, I hooked up with Charlotte for a 6k powerwalk along the beach here in Vejbystrand. It was calm but for the strangely sounding calls coming from a dozen or so beautiful swans floating offshore and a few dozen distant seabirds. I’ll have to come back one day with my audio recorder to try and capture the swans weird sounds.


Lovin’ The Root Fruit

Shot this crate of root fruit sometime last September during my outdoor exhibit “Malmö Upside Down”. The exhibit was immensely popular and a fun show to produce – in the midst of a large public garden in Malmö’s Slottsträdgråden. I’ve not always enjoyed eating root fruit. But I’ve enjoyed it tremendously for the past five years, which is about when I stopped eating meat and bird.


Does Anybody Remember Laughter?

Everything and everybody is so serious right now. I know, I know. These are really grim times. But unlike any other animal on the planet, at least as far as I know, humans have a particularly unique ability to let off steam and zoom out from even the gravest circumstance through humor and laughter. And for some, humor seems to be off the table. As Robert Plant once sang; “Does anybody remember laughter”?

I feel thankful for having what some call a sick sense of humor. The absurd, provocative, and disgusting have always served me well when I need a good laugh. And however you slice it, the ongoing pandemic is certainly absurd, disgusting, and provocative. Absurd in how fast the virus swept across the globe, disgusting in how it ravages the body of some victims and provocative in that it’s really forcing us to reassess just about everything and anything we’ve previously taken for granted. Which in the long run might be a good thing. At least where the planet is concerned. Probably for its inhabitants as well.

One of my few “humor heroes”, David Letterman, recently made me laugh out loud when I read his commentary about VP Mike Pence’s visit to the Mayo Clinic. So spot on.


Podcast Host: VoxelFlow & Road Safety

The day before yesterday, on Monday, I hosted the first in a series of international podcasts for Terranet in Lund. This first (pilot) episode was focused on autonomous vehicle technology in general and Terranet’s 3D sensor and motion detection system called VoxelFlow, which will be able to reduce traffic fatalities to a minimum and increase road safety to a maximum.

Participants in the podcast were:

• Henrik Christensen, the Qualcomm Chancellor’s Chair of Robot Systems and the director of the Contextual Robotics Institute at the University of San Diego and also a Professor of Computer Science in the Department of Computer Science and Engineering.

• Dirk Smits, inventor of the 3D vision motion perception technology, VoxelFlow, and CTO at Terranet.

• Nihat Kücük, Head of Navigation Maps at the Mercedes-Benz research and development center in Stuttgart, Germany.


High Speed Internet vs 28.8k

After weeks of incomprehensible and tremendously frustrating disruptions to our usually stable and speedy broadband – with umpteen tech support calls, Google searches, and two router purchases – our “pipe” to and from the Interwebs is once again working reliably and smoothly.

The other day, in the midst of our little connectivity crisis here in rural Sweden, Charlotte asked me what I thought it would be like if the ongoing financial crisis eventually impacted the Internet’s ubiquitousness. What if the ability to go online became limited, slower, and less useful? Would our smartphones turn into dumb phones? Can you even get a landline these days?

When I first connected my computer (a clunky, grey and sluggish Macintosh Performa 630) to a modem and finally succeeded at getting online sometime in late 1995, I soon understood that I was at the doorstep of an entirely new era. A new world where megabits and megabytes determined speed and experience. A layer of connectivity that spread across the planet and provided new relationships to people and eventually to brands. An epoch where both Charlotte and I would earn our living and integrate the global economy in our lives as both service providers and consumers.

Being old enough to remember what it was like before the Internet was such a critical part of society is an advantage. Especially if for whatever reason, “the web” one day regressed into something less omnipresent and less useful.

But I think I would be able to deal more easily with such a dramatic change if the Internet stopped working altogether. If it slowed down to the 28.8k modem speeds of 1995, I don’t think I could handle that for very long.


Grand Perks

I’ve been frequenting the legendary Grand Hotel in Lund, the only really nice, full-service hotel available in that city, for a couple of weeks now. It’s one of the most affordable luxury hotels I’ve stayed at in Sweden. While room rates are very reasonable and eating and drinking in the restaurant is certainly a comfortable, culinary experience, it’s not quite as wallet-friendly. Their large shrimp sandwich will set you back a whopping $24 buckaroos.

I’ve got quite a ways to go before I can call myself a “patron”, but already I have been able to enjoy some of the perks that being a frequent guest brings with it. The above shot of yesterday’s breakfast is a good example. Because of Covid-19, Grand doesn’t offer their usual buffet. Instead, they serve you more or less everything available from the buffet directly at your table (with gloved hands) a la carte style. Now, since I’ve never stayed there before, I don’t know if smoked salmon could actually be found at the buffet. But when I kindly asked for some, three times out of the four that I’ve stayed there so far, the server has appeased my request with a smile and small plate with a pile of pink, sliced fish.

I should also mention a couple of additional perks, like being allowed to check out a little later than policy permits and using one of the hotel’s small conference rooms when noise from the ongoing construction/renovation work becomes overbearing.
Grand Hotell in Lund is the fourth and by far the best hotel I’ve stayed at so far this year. The location near the train station is great, the individually decorated vintage style rooms are nice and the staff is as friendly as can be. They seem to genuinely appreciate my business and do their best to accommodate reasonable requests with a smile.

Avoiding Handy Handles

Without even realizing this before, it turns out that I am somewhat of a germaphobe. Not so much at home or when I am with family and close friends. But in public spaces, avoiding door handles, stair rails, elevator buttons or any type of knob is something I’ve been doing automatically for as long as I can remember. I can’t explain why – other than that my notoriously vivid imagination can easily envision how grimy and filthy the fingers and hands of the person before me were. Especially when it comes to men – which I know from half a century of experience of visiting public bathrooms – do not care nearly as much about cleanliness as they should.

Some men, not all, seem to think that at least part of their maleness lies in an ability to completely disregard personal hygiene or consider the implications their neglect of it could have on others. If I had a dollar for every time I saw a dude come out from a toilet stall in an airport or restaurant after “discharging” and then leave without even glancing at the sink or thinking of cleaning his hands, it would certainly be a tall pile of bills.

So, being extra precautious about touching stuff in the public realm isn’t much of hassle for me. All things considered right now and for the foreseeable future, having a hands-off and cleanliness approach will hopefully be the new normal for most people around the world. But hopefully, we’ll all be able to give and receive hugs more generously within the not-to-distant future. I miss them hugs!

Shot these handy door handles in Málaga a few months ago.


Qigong in Vejbystrand

From the other evening in the harbor of Vejbystrand where I found the perfect spot to practice a few of my Qigong moves.


Forgetful Yet Uneasy

Thanks to or because of, depending on your choice of perspective, my current workload distracts me from thinking too much about the pandemic and the tsunami of physical, emotional, and financial implications it carries with it. For hours on end, I am so immersed in my work, I can totally forget about it all.

Like most folks that have yet to know anybody that has been directly hit by the virus, it’s the indirect impact I hear of; from one friend in Malmö whom will likely lose his expansive restaurant business, to another pal, scared and hiding in complete isolation deep in one of Los Angeles sprawling suburbs.

The weirdest part of this unfolding drama is our collective uneasiness. We, including all the self-proclamied experts, still don’t know squat about how this craziness will actually conclude. Antithetical to an earthquake and other natural catastrophes, where there usually are plenty of historical precedents and aggregated statistics to help fill the void, map the scope (and to cope), here there are just too many puzzle pieces missing to provide a full picture of what the Covid-19 pandemic will look like going forward. Is there going to be even more radical plot twists? Like not becoming immune even after recovering from the disease? Or, that even if you only experience mild symptoms the first time you contract the virus, will they worsen the second or third time around – after your immunology has been compromised and exhausted? 

To put our current situation in a comically contextual perspective, it’s kinda like having a really bad stomach flu. Even several days after the last time you had diarrhea, you feel uneasy about letting out the tiniest fart. It’s just so friggin’ hard to relax these days.

The above photo of a pineapple themed tapestry is totally unrelated to this post but works as a decorative featured image nonetheless.


From Grand to Park

Shot today from my hotel room on the 7th floor at Park Inn in Västra Hamnen, Malmö. While both have their respective merits, Grand Hotel Lund and Park Inn Malmö could not possibly be more different in every aspect except for two shining similarities; affordable, mid-week room rates, and an extraordinarily high service level thanks to an extraordinarily low occupancy rate.


At Night: Grand Hotel Lund

When I finally got out of the tub, I peeked out the window and noticed how gorgeous and calm the evening was. Once I dried off, I put on a t-shirt, a pair of jeans and slipped into my shoes. Then I grabbed my camera and tripod and headed down and out to the small park right outside the Grand Hotel Lund to create the above image.


In Lund

Here’s one of my views this evening in Lund. A bird settling on the head of a statue is just too much of a temptation for any serious photographer to neglect. While in the midst of a whirlwind, a statue provides an eternity of perdurability. It doesn’t sway from its stance, bow to any virus, or need to make excuses or feel embarrassed when a bird inevitably drops a huge dump on it. Such is the destiny of a statue. It takes the shit and still stands tall and unmoved by past bird dumps or from being ignored. Gonna take a bath now. Together with Toots Thielemans.


Doors

Found this old wooden door during our short visit to Båstad during the weekend. It’s a little corny, but I’ve been fascinated with doors for as long as I can remember, both from a metaphorical and aesthetic perspective.


Bjärehalvön – Torekov

A quick visit to Torekov where the weather is fabulous and spring is just around the corner. Charlotte and I went for a long walk and while a bit nippy, it was both refreshing and energizing.


Calmness in the Calamity

This is what it looked like last night when the gusty winds finally subsided and left behind a vacuum of placidity and tranquility. While standing there with my camera, I felt so far from the calamity and drama sweeping across the world right now.

If you look above to the right in the image, where the big tree is, you’ll see the silhouette of a small, wooden birdhouse that I hung up there a few weeks ago, hoping some fine feathered fowl would discover the place and find it so irresistibly attractive, they’d move in. Well, yesterday, I saw a potential tenant checking the place out. I want to remember that one of my first woodshop projects when I arrived in Sweden back in 1978, was a crudely made birdhouse of birch. The one I hung up on the tree was decidedly more stylish and well-built and probably made in a factory somewhere in China.


Slow Coffee & Drip Life

I shot this one morning while we were living on the outskirts of Hoi An in central Vietnam. We continue to make our coffee this way, but man, that trip feels super distant right now. Not just because of the time lapsed from October until now. The whole world was different back then. Nobody had any concerns about spreading or being infected by a virus. No hidden suspicious or irrational fears. A time when handshakes and hugs were abundant and generously shared. We shopped at open-air markets, enjoyed street food and didn’t wash our hands more than before meals and after toilet visits.

I doubt there has ever been a time in the history of our species where humans have been more preoccupied with self-negotiating and micromanaging our lives. Here in Sweden, where there is no lockdown, shelter in place or judicially enforced restrictions, we are admittedly more or less free to go wherever we want and socialize, albeit in small groups.

Unfortunately, I don’t think everyone is concerned about making decisions that could either be potentially life-saving or life-threatening. From what I have seen in Ängelholm, Malmö and Lund, few people, particularly younger folk, seem to take much notice of what’s going on in Spain, Italy and the US.

I totally get that the younglings feel invincible and that life seems blissfully eternal. They should absolutely feel this way – it’s like a prerequisite for their age and enables them to reach further, jump higher and instantly bounce back when they inevitably fail and fall. And I like to think that to a degree, I still have that mentality in place. But, being a middle-aged man with a mild case of asthma and a father that definitely wants to experience what it’s like being a grandfather, I am one of those paranoid dudes that constantly self-negotiates and weighs pros and cons of many of my most rudimentary daily decisions. Perhaps not so much while being fairly isolated here in Vejbystrand. But I am super-conscious of how I am feeling and even the slightest hint of a headache, sniffle, cough, or, really any strange feeling that occurs in my body, puts me in a state of hyperawareness. Oh, did I mention that I have a mild case of Hypochondria?


The Hot Water Knob

This was shot in a hotel bathroom not too long ago. I couldn’t resist documenting such a beautiful faucet. What a great tribute to vintage design and outdated function. Creating the right blend of hot and cold water isn’t easily accomplished and I tend to just use the left knob and hope that I’ll have time enough to clean my hands and rinse them from soap suds before the water gets scathingly hot. I usually fail at this.


Leaning Left

Though a capitalist out of necessity, I am clearly a left-leaning liberal at heart. Honestly, I can’t understand how you could possibly be anything else. I sincerely hope that once we see the light at the end of this dark, threatening tunnel, that a considerably more humane, empathetic perspective emerges among those in power.

The picture above is composed of photos from within my archive.


Easter Eve in Vejbystrand

This is what Easter Eve looked like here in Vejbystrand this morning. Within the Christian tradition, Easter Eve is the Saturday after Good Friday. It’s a nugatory day because according to legend, Jesus’ disciples have locked themselves in his tomb for fear of those behind the execution. Why are they hiding? For fear that they too will be crucified? The hiding seems uncourageous to me. I mean, didn’t Jesus bravery rub off on them at all?

We are fortunate to not have to hide or shelter here, even though there is an “executioner” lurking in the shadows. An invisible, barely microscopic pathogen always on the lookout for new hosts and clearly with no regard for Easter or any holiday.

 


Sakura Flowers in Tokyo vs Vejbystrand

This morning, after her run, my Qigong/Yoga workout and our scrambled eggs on toast breakfast with Vietnamese coffee, Charlotte exclaimed, “the first place we’re going to travel to when all this is over, is Japan”.

I couldn’t have agreed more with her.

Our first visit to Tokyo was about this time of year. Elle was about 5 or six years old at the time and we fell in love with the Japanese capital. During our two week stay, Tokyo’s Sakura trees blossomed and because the flowers were not quite as pink as they are here in Vejbystrand (where the above shot was taken a few days ago), it kinda looked like the cherry trees were covered in a thick layer of snow.


Sjömantorp from above

I haven’t flown my old drone in about six months. Somewhat surprised how fast my muscle memory kicked in – making flying it feel easy peasy. I’m still fascinated by upside-down perspectives and this is from about 80 meters above Sjömantorp where we live.


Dualism

As I mentioned just before canceling my accounts on December 31st, 2019, I no longer participate in Facebook, Instagram, Twitter or any other social media platform. Yet I have somehow managed to persuade a few fine friends and chosen family members to communicate with me via iMessage, email and WhatsApp. I don’t mind having to switch between the three. But if I had my way, we’d all use email. I love writing and receiving emails. Writing an email feels close to old school letter writing – which I did a lot of in my younger years. Which kind of makes me feel ancient.

The coronavirus pandemic has disrupted so many people’s lives, including ours. It’s hard to grasp the scope of it yet. I think we might just be seeing the very tip of an enormous iceberg – the beginning of a multi-year, planet-wide, chain of events that will have a seemingly endless ripple effect on most everyone. How folks in the developing world and the poorest are going to be able to cope is a question I keep asking myself. There’s no optimistic answer, I fear. So many countries around the world are run by a bunch of autocrats, dictators, and despots, men that are either suppressing virus facts and stats and/or just looking the other way, ignoring a problem they are incapable of addressing. Their biggest concern is not the health of the country they strongarm but rather how the crisis might affect the power they wield.

Shot the above image somewhere in Asia a few years ago.


Easter Week 2020

The eggs are obviously photoshopped, but the nest is authentic. I found it the other day while cleaning out one of our many storage rooms here in Vejbystrand.  Like none I’ve ever experienced before, this Easter will be unprecedentedly weird. Not sure yet if any of our traditional gatherings will occur. One pleasantry will definitely be revisited: Easter snaps. I mean, even if it is the end of the world as we know it, a chilled snaps (with mustard herring, potatoes, and dill) or two can’t possibly make it any worse..


The Crusher

Charlotte and I have been to a large recycling facility today. We actually made two visits there and have will probably be back there tomorrow. I got lucky during our second visit as it was time to turn on the oddly pleasing wood crushing machine when we were at the wood station. A friend pointed out how watching this brutal machine is satisfying somehow. I agree. Now if only someone could invent a way to crush COVID-19…