Smelly Zarathustra


    The box is buried in the forest on the way down to the village.

    I wash in the stream and change into normal looking clothes.

    They have been stored in air-tight bags, and actually smell of washing powder as I put them on.

    I don't want to leave a moist towel in the box, so I am still damp.

    The cotton clothes feel soft against my skin and it reminds me to buy deodorant.

    Sweat smells bad when wearing cotton.



    I leave all my things in the box. Leather boots, woolen clothes, gore-tex, rifle and fishing gear.

    I never keep food there.

    To distract curious animals I have left some trout entrails by the stream.

    I feel light and unsteady as I ascend the hillside with only sneakers on.

    It will take about an hour to get to the train station.

    I check the inner pocket of my coat. The wallet and phone are where I left them.

















  • Light from timber


    The time spent indoors I do what I didn't get around to in summer.

    Stitch clothes, fix rods, sharpen ice augers, make traps, arrows, snow shoes and furniture.

    Heat from the oven and music from the radio.

    When the practical things are done there is still time for reading and making something pretty.



    One autumn a few years back I stalked a big moose deep into the forest.

    Suddenly I stumbled upon a crashed plane.

    It was a small propeller seaplane before it got smashed to bits.

    Small trees were growing through it.

    I checked the wreckage for useful things but didn’t find much.

    Inside a hatch in the nose of the plane I found the engine.

    It was intact with barely any rust on it.

    I decided to come back to get it in winter,

    and continued stalking the moose.



    In February I walked back to the wreckage on snowshoes.

    The snow was compact and easy to walk on.

    I was pulling the sturdy sled I had made for the purpose.

    It took two days to get there, and even with a full moon it took four to get back

    After resting a day I manoeuvred the engine into a room I had prepared earlier in winter.

    In the dim light from a paraffin lamp I worked on it every day until it was finished.

    I oiled the machine and closed the room for summer.

    Insects were buzzing above the rotten snow when I stepped outside.