Behind The Glass With Charlotte Eriksson

LISBON, 5 Aug, 2018. I keep putting myself in solitary places, for the pleasure of it, I think. A brown-eyed boy said hi in Swedish, so I looked down and walked away. The heat is so constant, it’s like a wall as I open the window each morning. The heat, it consumes my senses and there is not place enough for sadness or cold. I bought a black dress with a bare back, wander in sandals and wear no make-up. I let my hair blow free and I only sing before 6am on wild streets or in front of the ocean, where no one can hear. They drink sangria at 2pm here, smoke cigars and go to the beach. I walk with a notebook and a collection of poetry under my arm, ignoring texts and emails, pretending I might stay. Pretending I’m not on the run, pretending I live somewhere. My mom asked me how long I’m staying and I replied “i miss you too”. I could stay here. I could find myself a job, make some friends, find a home near the beach where I would walk every morning. Meditate, slow down and serenade the drinkers at night by the