Hi, Sleepy. Tonight we begin in the benigning, which is not a word, but it might be a place. A small Swedish-English place where I stand with my pockets full of half-working words, wondering if I have enough of them to carry us through the night. From there we somehow move toward a forest, an axe, m...
In this episode, Sleepy, I try to list everything in the universe before the hour is over. It starts well, with light, the moon, spoons and dust, but then reality becomes rude and starts unfolding in too many directions at once. There are atoms, hiccups, moss, mirrors, shadows, debt, mushrooms, rust...
Tonight I fall into the strange little trapdoor between Swedish and English, Sleepy, where one word is perfectly innocent on one side of the sea and slightly alarming on the other. There will be Swedish words. Real ones. Suspicious ones. A few that sound rude but are mostly about road signs, ice cre...
Hi Sleepy. Tonight we wander into that strange little gap before a feeling has a name. A sound moves the air in your ear, a smell opens a basement door inside you, a birch tree in the wind becomes childhood, and suddenly the body has arrived long before the words come running after it, late and out ...
Tonight I circle around the small surrender of it is what it is , Sleepy. Weather, gravity, cold tea, ancient rocks, dogs, cats, seeds cracking open in the dark, and the strange comfort of being a tiny passenger on a planet that refuses to ask our permission. This is a soft, wandering journey to sle...