I write in English, not my native Swedish. When you live with a language, it is slowly coloured by reality, by experience - the language acquires meaning, significance and emotion. And then you're back where you started. Only without yourself. Without your native tongue, 'mother tongue' in Swedish.
The only language where I can nuance every sentence, play with the rhythm, the sense of detail. Move from the grandiose to the absolutely miserable with precision and confidence. The language I absolutely hate and love.
Swedish is heavy and emotions flicker as I write. Each word with its story, its context. Make out. Exciting words that tickle. Torn. Words that hurt and diminishes.
I create my own narrative. Is it possible? No man an island. Do we own our own narrative, or does it only exist in a context. I'm looking for words that are real.