We are now in the merciless season of the year, the appelate sunshine period. Then everything suddenly becomes visible: the skin pale blue hue, tassarnas vintertorrhet and the relentless wear and tear. Yes, when we short become aware of the passage of time.
I eluded me the other day a heavy sigh, because of this deep insight but I knew then that it as well as the tricks on to in a nook of the brain's meanderings. It was a small greeting from the gray mass about the importance of maintaining the balance between despair and energy. The brain signaled were: Renewal.
when I was blängde on sovrumstapeten with a pattern that I get tired of, I made a ilsnabbt the decision to wallpapering if. Jajamensan. My inner coach chased immediately with the in my opinion quite cheesy slogans of the type ”Fortune favours the brave!!” followed by ”Doubt is just for wimps!”
So I logged on to the computer and began to scan the tapetmarknaden and I began to no end are not. Tapetkonstruktörernas fantasies are boundless.
I could in my bedroom, for example, be surrounded by a svårgenomtränglig birch, or sniff out straight in the Agulhas, the african continent's southernmost point. A little bit sweaty, it would probably be to have a soldräkt sandy beach at its head, the more illusory coolness in this case, an aquarium with swimming fat dolphins. There was wallpaper dotted with birds, but to sleep among them could well be like to lie between the individual pages in the Wright brothers ' classic works?
also crept in on the tapetmarknaden for there was a white fondtapet with the black silhouettes of rifles and machine guns. More romantic was probably the idea with a kvällsblåtonad wallpaper with the image of the Brooklyn bridge. But the one who wakes up in the middle of pitch black night and start thinking about everything that can happen under the bridge at night will not sleep, until the day dawns.
Nope, I wanted something soothing, something bland. Maybe something akvarelligt, any liquid that gave it the own nocturnal imagination free reign.
And now I stand here with tapetrullarna, glue, brush, knife and a bloody high straight. My inner coach is in top form and repeat:
”the Doubt is just for wimps!”