An Anti-heroin with a thousand faces, weaving tales like mist over the open sea. As the falling angel whispers to open the gates to the cold, dead and flaming goal at the end of spiral of violence. Under the darkened moon, she sharpens care and connection. She ties you up, binding hands and feet, your head exposed to the elements. "Why don't you stop?" she asks. I'm not here for fun. Disia
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It is now 10 days since I left my 24 hour visit as a student in the Boarding School, Sisters Academy. I have returned at a seminar by professor Göran Krantz EDUCATION BY THE SENSES Cognitive knowledge and sensible learning beyond the dichotomy of body and mind, this Sunday the…
like a moth I waited to remember my strength that balance between rest and resistance remember my grey more water than brick unfolding is brave but so is waiting