Eg gjekk langs vegen, på veg heim. Det var Desember. Blå-timen haldt på å gå over i mørke. Store lette snø-flak dalte stille og danna kunstverk i lufta. Eg såg opp, og kjente himmelen dra meg mot den. Så lett. Eg var 14, hadde brun skin-jakke, raudt heima-strikka sjal og blå heima-strikka hue. Håret var godt gøymd inni, utanom luggen som låg fint og dekka halve panna. Eg kjende meg fin og varm. Verda var så vakker at ord var ikkje å finna. Alt kjentes så heilt og så ekte. Jul

I just came home from a writing session with a wonderful Australian girl named Claudia(check out her beautiful Instagram account). Our writing included a lot of talking. Going through each other's stories are sometimes the best way to get to the music. Amongst the many topics we touched on, we talked about how we may be scared or worried in advance of a certain event or situation, even when we know it's gonna be just ifne. It was funny that we got into that topic, cause in f

It's winter. It's cold. I shiver. And it's beautiful. The few hours of low, faded sun we get in the early afternoon, feels like sharp light into our souls. It keeps us going and keeps reminding us that light still exists. I love this time of year.. I remember, exactly year ago, on a day like this... I was out hiking. Just as I reached the top, I saw the sun deliver a last glimmer of light before it calmly set "over yonder" behind the far mountains . Inspired and at ease I ran