I fill the year

three past birthdays, in prospective.


Befann mig i Stockholm hos en kompis och hennes familj…vi cyklade till stan och gick på Skansen i hela dagn. En tidresa genom århundraden samt genom barndom, kan man säga. På kvällen, lagade jag mexikansk mat åt familijen. Det blev inte helt rätt, men gott ändå. Svenskarna var förstårligt nyfikna: Vad gör man med pannkakan? frågade pappan medans han tog en tortilla. Det var ingen pannkaka, ju! Och två dagar senare blev det midsommar på härtzö… bärplockning, svampplockning, sjunging matlagning. Solsken, märkligt. Bada, åka kayak, fika, spela kort. Och om igen. Solen gick liksom aldrig ner och jag kunde inte sluta le.


Installing Labview on my boss’s computer. Making a cake and failing. Absorbing the capricious central European summer. Blogging cryptically about it.


As the air thinned around us it seemed all the more that the world would rift open. Surely it did, at some point, or else none of this would be here. We kept going, bikes on our backs, until there was nowhere higher to climb. At the Col I looked back into the valley we crawled first up into and then out of–the waterfall, the place where the pines stopped, all the impossible little blossoms–and for a minute there was no sound. What I’ve been taught for years was suddenly made breathlessly real: these peaks haven’t changed much over some number of minutes beyond the scale of our imaginations. In the face of the Col, the time we keep on our watches, in our calenders, in our bodies, in our buildings and books and birthdays, ceases to be of consequence.

Some amount of seconds later, the wind again was making sound. It was time to descend.

Photo credit, route credit, and insanity credit: S.B.

Switzerland, it’s pretty great.


One Response to “I fill the year”

  1. Katie Says:

    A hero and a scholar.

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