Once my grandmother was alone with all the children on the pine covered island. Hers and her friends’ children were playing among the cliffs and twisted island pines. No new food would arrive until the next day so when the last pasta on the island fell into the dish-water she rinsed it off and served it anyway. She laughed guiltily remembering that dinner, one of the full children afterwards smilig up at her and happily stating “you always use the best spices!” It was a rainy summer that year and a lot of sea to the shore.
Along the river Indalsälven by canoe.
Roots by the shore.
Fragment 5: bark shard from pine in the shape of an island.