I know my english is a strange one. But the reason for my writing in a language that is actually not mine is right here:
a good friend of mine asked "perchè scrivi in inglese?!". Another good friend of mine asked "Hvorfor skriver du ikke på norsk?".
The latest pictures are on their way. I lost one of my cartridges, the other negatives are about to come. I´ll just have to dig up some of my dirt from my suitcase (that thing I lately have started calling "home").
That´s a strange thing too. It´s been a long time since I´ve called "home" my actual home. I call "home" my hostel, my friend´s sofa, my brother´s place. I might end up calling "home" a bench at the airport.
I like the concept. Home´s where my suitcase is.
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