The edge

It is there, somewhere between water and rocks.

A line, border maybe, frontier, perimeter…

It is there…


And I love to play there!!!

Because it is only mine. Like I was the one and only noticing it.

The Edge.

A place, or maybe only a thought? Hope surrounded by dreams? Maybe. For me it is here. It is physical. It is something I can touch, I can change, I can watch, and probably… I could destroy? Or maybe not? Maybe in fact it is something given, which I can only think I can have? Which is unable to be possessed?


I love to take photos of this place. Splashes, water drops, movement and silence, because even when it is stormy, they both are there. Silence and movement. Splashes, big drops of water, perfectly round, and those which… in fact everything here, in this place is everything, every shape in one time… because maybe this is the truth, the ultimate one we were looking for? That everything happens in one time.


So you can chill… really.


Pictures or words?

Somehow… I think people prefer pictures.


People stopped reading years ago. So popular is TLDR! How can someone write something like this? How can someone show so much ignorance? So much… disrespect. You do not wanna read something, so do not do it, but why you are so stupid, to be so happy to show it off?



So pictures or words?

For me? Words first. They are important interesting, combined with emotions they are everything… the sound of some of them can really arouse me… ekhm, in all matters. Yup, also sexual! LOL Words tickle me, words are important. Using this or other can really matter. Yes or no, hesitate or be sure… but pictures, paintings and photos, they can really have million words, but who gets them?

I mean really?

Ancient Egyptians had both. Pictures and words. But in fact everyone could see them, but not many could write and read. In fact only the chosen one. Books as we know them started to be popular and in fact available for everyone after II World War… and now we are just throwing it away. Why? The most popular on social media is what? Instagram? Snapchat or YouTube? Pictures… do you even listen to those people? I mean, really? Do we listen to each other? Do we write love notes? Do you? Birthday cards, letters? Do you leave simple notes for those important for you? Or you use those already written, just sign them with your name, or just two letters?

Do you still know how to do it with paper, pen and pencil? Or just a piece of charcoal? Or chalk? Or piece a piece of brick… I remember as a kid we had no fancy colored chalks, we had nature. And it worked for both: words and pictures.

Imagine a love letter, which makes you blush and wet…

Yeah, I never said this is a blog for kids. Not all words are for them either. You got to grow up to some of them, but also to pictures. You can see them, but in fact do not get them… not truly. Still…

Words or pictures?

Is it possible to have them both?


Are you free?

I mean really and truly?

Are you free?

Do you remember that part of “Braveheart” and Mel Gibson yelling: FREEEEEDOM!!! Yeah, he was dying, so he was somehow ready to get it.


But you? Are you free?


When we look at human beings they seem to be attached to so many things, so many ideas, so many problems which in fact are not theirs. The truth is people stopped taking care of themselves and all those around, and are so much more scared and moved by those thousands miles away…

There is a theory which says, that civilization took our freedom away, and you know what… I think I agree with that. Still I love my shower and prefer to poop to my white toilet than into bushy woods. So how to be free and have a toilet? Still so called wild tribes do not know meanings of: mine, yours, land, borders… they know they have to feed families and have a roof over their heads. And then they can have fun, and we? So called civilized? We go to work, and then work more at home…

Are we free?

Are our minds free and thoughts?

We may be living in democracy, but what if… mot of people are dumb? They will rule if it is a democracy, so…

The truth is even if you obey all laws, they can find something and take you everything… including life. But maybe freedom is after this life?


I know it everything sounds so nasty and depressing, but recently I really do not have happy thoughts. And I never promised you happiness. Archaeologist and artists are those always depressed and having anxiety… weird thing to be both.

Is freedom possible at all? Is it?


Weird places?

Weird places, or maybe just special? More wild, more natural… more… exactly. There are fee places which are really one and only on Earth like Aokigahara, Bermuda Triangle… or this one, which I found recently Hoia Baciu. Oh my, this one is pretty special. And those trees. Trees always say truth.

Remember it!


When it comes to my Island… she is special in all ways, but is also a piece of the secret line… one of ley lines. Spooky, right? There is so many legends here, secret stones, standing stones… and people still believing.

But one thing strikes me everyday… are those weird places, or maybe we lost something? We are no longer able to feel them? We have lost ability, or maybe strength? Or maybe we forgot? But still something pushes us there… makes us want to visit those places. Makes us worship them – remember most of churches are standing on pagan cult sites. So we are still connected, but do we know why?

Do we?

I was lying today on one of those stones, probably previously standing… marked with a pagan cross, and I felted different. Suddenly calmer. Suddenly not giving a crap. Suddenly fucking everything.

Suddenly… so tell me, how is it? How is it now? Is there on;y science present in your life or only religion? Or maybe there is something more?

… can you find place for MORE?


To sleep or not to sleep?

Oh yes…

To sleep.


To sleep.

Sleep with no phone next to you. Sleep in a dark special room, or at least place which is made only for dreaming…

Do not let anyone tell you that you can sleep less, that it is okay, that you can be more productive, or some other shit. Yes, I am old enough to call it SHIT. Do your own research, read dissertations. Listen to your body, and sleep… Just sleep. And if you have problems with sleeping, go to a doctor, because lack of sleep is the most perfect, most amazing and useful torture. Ask ONZ. Really.


And this problem from the other side… sometimes I do not want to wake up. Because even nightmares are now much better than this what is going on with this world. Yesterday on a busy road a stupid woman was taking a photo standing in a middle of it… Really. Road. Busy. Cars. Driving quick. Human being suddenly in front of your car… I think I am done with mu hope for humanity.


I prefer my dreams.

PS. Remember all photos are for sale, those on Facebook IBornholm and Kobaltowa Wrona too 🙂 Paypal (150DKK), mail and you can print is as you want 🙂 Whatever size you want. So please… buy them, do not steal them. Bigger size is better LOL And I am a poor artist. Crazy poor… And of course I am not talking about photos of my face. You are not so crazy to want it, right? LOL

And if you can not, at least please click on those commercials, that it money for me. For more writing, creating, and mostly for my research about Bronze Age symbolism of a hjulkors. Cross in a circle… LOL I promised myself that I will not do it, but now I am struggling, really.



Well, I do not have any…

I never had.

Maybe as a kid but it was so traumatic, that I do not want to talk about it. I just can not afford vacation. And can you imagine archaeologist/artist having one? I mean really? Just lying on the beach and sunburning? Because I can not… or maybe only I am so always ready to discover something. Write down new theories, ideas, just do something, anything, I mean really…

Unable to be only peace and quiet in mind.


Or maybe this is my peace and quiet?

Being busy all the time?

Because how can you turn off your imagination? Everyone knows it works the best when you are ready to sleep, when you are slowly falling into this amazing darkness, all those stories… oh yes, this is the time, when imagination is up, and all you have to do is write something down, but… how to choose between writing stories and being a part of them, in your dreams?


PS. Remember all photos are for sale, those on Facebook IBornholm and Kobaltowa Wrona too 🙂 Paypal (150DKK), mail and you can print is as you want 🙂 Whatever size you want. So please… buy them, do not steal them. Bigger size is better LOL And I am a poor artist. Crazy poor… And of course I am not talking about photos of my face. You are not so crazy to want it, right? LOL



I started to read very early. This is why I stopped being a genius kid, you know. I was so not interested in school and all that stuff, all I wanted were books. And those stories. And all those weird things which… started to be visible in so called regular world too. Because imagination was growing. Like a huge oak.

Fat one… with many branches.


What did I start from?

Well, I was reading everything. I mean really. I was a kid who raised itself, so had no boundaries and a small library next doors. Oh this was so evil to let a child read… especially a girl. I mean really. Girls who read think too much, are smart, intelligent and zingy!!! Even when they love only fairytales. But those real ones. Andersen and Grimm brothers without that weird cut offs. They were bloody and harsh. They were true… and still I did not grew up to be a psychopath. Or maybe… wait, I will check. Nope, I got only one closet and no skeletons there, just candles, few clothes and weird stuff.

Sooo… why nowadays kids can not ready fairytales. Like even Moomins Stories? Because what? The Author – who I love totally – was who she was? Free and different? Tove… if I lived in your years, I think we could be friends. Those weird. Every one would have her fav ever rock and sitting there, writing and painting or drawing… and maybe not talking at all. Maybe preferring silence and island… You created the character which is my own freedom. My real one… Little My!!!

And now she always reminds me to be pissed.

To be nervous.

Just to show emotions. Even if as a woman, you will always hear: are you mestruating? Why are you so pissed, is it PMS? Nope… I am just done with stupid people. With dumb humans…


Sooo let your kids read… and let their imagination grow. But not only those pinkish books. Those always good princessy… Let them for something dark ad twisted too. Because this is what the world is. Especially now, when parents do not care about raising kids, and kids hit their TEACHERS! Bully them!!! And teachers can do nothing…

I blame you parents. I blame you mothers…

PS. Cool link, read it…  It is just amazing!!!


The harbor

I love to sit in the harbor. I call it mine, but… it is not mine. I have there just a spot, to take photos, or just to sit down. In the harbor which is small, calm and not deep. Perfect for a short swim, perfect for few seagulls which do not care for me, few sparrows and brown ducks. So brown, that even gold…


And few old boats.



Funky colorful.

They are my paint, wind is my brush, and seaweeds bits and pieces of wood, are so called mixed media. Yeah, recently I prefer to take photos than to paint. Paint, good brushes, soft and funny, canvases and all that stuff costs lots of cash. And place… yeah I need a lot of place to paint, get dirty, and can not do it outside, because paint dries too quickly. Sooo… I take photos. A lot of them. Like my camera was glued to my fingers. And yesterday my camera died, what will kill me. Because I can not just repair it, not here.

And buying new one?

For what?



I can spend hours just taking photos. Just waiting for a perfect light, perfect wave. Looking for seaweeds jumping up and down on the blue sea… between funny reflections. I can spend hours in one spot. Waiting for a special wave, for a sparkle for perfectly round drops… for something what will make me CLICK!

Feeling almost… happy.

How the heck can I be so patient? But only when it comes to light and colors… sooo, you can often see me in my harbor. Very often. Even now when my Island is full of tourists. And is a bit loud and messy… Even now.

PS. Sending huge THANK YOU to Vitlycke Museum. And Karin!!! I have my pendant back! It is not the same… but still mine!!!


What would you do?

In fact. What would you do hearing someone screaming? On a dark street, maybe at night, maybe just misty day, or normal, bright and so called… happy one? What would you do? Rush to help? Run away?

Call the police?


The truth is… running to help can end with your death. Yes, you will be called a hero, newspapers will write about you for a day, and then, everyone will forget. Some even will call you stupid…

So, what would you do?

I yelled once… when someone was dragging me into bushes. People around (bright day, lots of people, clean park, families, kids) looked at me like I made a sin. Stole their calmness and happiness. Maybe a free day. Maybe some plans, like a blanket on a grass, picnic maybe? Talking, walking and being together. And I destroyed their perfect day. I saw it in their eyes… and I shut up.

I struggled and managed to run away. My dress was torn, but I was only touched in too many places… ONLY? I run away thanks to my voice. See, I am short, but I can scream. Really loud when scared or pissed. But the truth is, I yelled only because I had my earphones on, very loud. Without them, I could be just a mice. Trying not to mess with all those perfect families around me. I could say nothing.

I could… so yes, this scream happened to me to. It was only touching, some… so it was not THAT, but what if? Who would help me?

I now prefer people not to see me. Not make a move towards me. Not to make a contact. I do away, always choose the walls, which can at least save my back. And somehow I thought it is clear, that if someone runs away you do not follow him or her. You do not push, rape her space… but now, in the world of no empathy I think people… they feel wounded animal – me, and attack. They wanna end someone has started.

Had it few days ago. Have it very often.

So… what would you do if I start to scream only because you approach too close to me? Would you understand? Or would you just slap me? Offend me? Call me a madwoman? Once I met a woman who looked at me, and asked: who hurt you? And I did not know what to answer.



I look at them and think about her… Calineczka. Or wait, how she was named in English? Thumbelina? You know, the one perfect little girl from one of the most amazing stories by Hans Christian Andersen. Tiny one, amazing one, which had to go thru so much to find her own love, and grow up…

To be someone not just a tiny and precious addition.


And waterlilies look like they just gave birth to many of them. When I close my eyes I see them. Little, scared girls. Suddenly left by petals which look so fake, so plastic like, but when you look closer, you see the mathematical perfection. Not just beauty, but something more. Something from a higher shelf of science… And of course I see the ladies waiting for their daughters. Oh they look fancy. They wear their best dresses, and best hats. But also… biggest expectations. Because a child must be not only perfect, not only better than others kids, not only most flawless, most beautiful, most amazingly build but also can be smart… Yeah, smart is not that important, right?

Just the look.


Mothers, future mums around the pond, but which one thumbelina to choose? Bigger or smaller, with golden hair or silver, blue or yellow? Will she suit to my fancy bag and to a car so big and to a house with modern decore… Will she be okay with all those pieces which are already so perfectly glued to my every day?

Will she? Good, that she is tiny, so if mummy is bored, she can just put little girl away. To forget. To just not care. Just leave her a drop of water and one candy. To make her look good on Instagram photos. When she will like to take one? When she will be in a mood to be mother again.

Because everything is now an accessory.

Even kids… even them.

PS. Why I am so pessimistic again? Because I found out about books of eggs. Catalogs of ladies and their eggs which are for sale. Who choose from? White or black, long hair or shorter, intelligent or maybe only artistic? Believing or not? And of course those fields of surrogates. More like farms of course, but I like to look at those ladies as trees which just get one bee… and produce one or few fruits. For everyone who has money. Not necessary love… Yeah. I am old-fashioned. Or maybe normal?

That scares me.