Sylvanian Families

you learn to wait for life to happen in your single bunk, gazing up at Smila Stjärna or across the room to the doll’s house you adorned with little hedgehogs, little kettles, little women’s things towards the window where you plan to escape on your brother’s go-kart, ride in rings around the mossy yard, string ofContinue reading “Sylvanian Families”

What have I built?

I suppose it has something to do with the porch where I opened the trinket shop, selling lumps  of gravel and dandelions through the letterbox, or the cockle shells arranged in a witch’s seance  along the edges of our rug, inhaling the smell of settled soot, door shut, waiting for life to happen. Then somethingContinue reading “What have I built?”