Https://mantelsroman.wordpress.com/2017/04/21/scanneren-i-kaelderen-paa-auh/ (In Danish, Sorry...) #auh

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Every single day...

Oh dear. You're not well at all. Those closed eyes… So sad. And obvious. At least to me, as I guess you know. It's a fine mask, sunny and serene. But I know. I see the cracks oozing out fear and desperation. Loss of senses. Just lost. Don't worry. It's me: I will fix you. Save you from all those haunting moments. That tears apart what's left of your mind. I can hear the scratching and crackling in your sore skull. Mirror-like, confined horrors twisting and turning, trying to break you. Shooting sizzling darts at your dissolving horizon. A disease eating moment by moment, until you're left with useless time, locking up yourself in fear of yourself… I'll fix you! You won't feel a thing. Make your mask your mind, just while… Slide out under any persistent moment; go for the sky I'm building, it's safe, trust me! … Right. See now. No, no, not with your eyes. Keep them shut, that's part of the deal. A fair one! Now you can dream. I gave you time! For a dream or two. Go on. Dream away. All the way. (Long version in danish at: https://mantelshistorier.wordpress.com ) #mantelmomento #danielmantel #mantelshistorier #udenfilter #choices #mind #badchoices #prose #fiction #realitybites #anofferyoucantrefuse #meandmymind #dreamaway #dontlistentothoseofferingyoutimeanddreamsinsteadofmomentsorthatsatleastmyexperience (Usual one-off hashtag...) (her: Inside .) https://www.instagram.com/p/BqUpSX_HXQ7/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1lmwbuthv2qqf

Just a few days ago, this was almost too hot. A very steep street, and the sun straight in my eyes. With even the coppled pavement reflecting and making me almost blind. Sweating like it was almost 40 degrees celsius in that late afternoon sun. Oh, it was hot, steep, and I couldn't even follow the lady a bit ahead. Only about 50 meters to my next waterhole, but I really cursed myself for not spending the few €'s on the tram. Yes, it was hot like fire. Even breathing was like swallowing fire... Now, really just a few days later, I LONG to be back at that tough part of that street... And being too hot for comfort, thinking bout not having spent those few €'s, and so on. Now and here everything is flat out. The pavement can't reflect anything. There's nothing to blind me. No hard breathing. Then WHY do I feel more blind. Unable to see. WHY do I feel like choking. When the air is plain normal. Why do I wish, deep inside like a scream being made and ready to burst out, that I again was climbing that coppled street, along the tracks of tram no 28... And not being here, where everything is straight forward... All the way to the flat horizon. Maybe it's no wonder why... At least not for me. #lisbon #ruadoquelhas #blinded #sun #reflections #uphill #pavement #heat #momenttoremember #wanting #tram28 #electrico28 #back #ifonly #neverforget #laurieandthestoryof (Yup, she might have walked exactly here...) #ijustwishiwasbackonthatsteephotstreetandnotinthisflatcountryandthatsthat (Usual one-off hashtag) #udenfilter (None whatsoever; black and white purely the sun and reflections...) #mantelmomento #danielmantel (Very much so!) #primeiroproximopasso (He fits in here as well...) (her: Lapa, Lisboa, Portugal)

There is an amazing skillful portuguese-guitar player, that has a view on the world not so far from mine. Some might say it is a rather pessimistic way of looking at things. If 'things' are how Europe acts within itself and with the world in general. And remember, the world is so much more than Europe. Which we have a tendency to forget, unless the subject is refugees... How sad! Anyway, we can agree on one thing, (among of lot others), that it might be too late for our generation. But we can only pray for the next, seemingly to be just a bit above profit and multinational earnings and expansions... Oh, and btw, he is a gifted by the Gods (who's or which ever) with his playing that guitar... Makes me cry. Seriously. That good. And also makes me so much more eager to continue my (judged by myself, admitted), final and all-orbiting (-can you even say that?) novel... Laurie is impatiently waiting! #fadonamorgadinha #fado #morgadinha #guitar #guitargod #alfama #lisbon #amaliarodrigues #generations #laurieandthestoryof (Somehow connected to...) #legacy #worldheritage #novel #prose #saudade #meandmystory #hopeisjusttofinishthosefewthingsthatyoureallywanttoandthenbesatisfiednotlessifyouareabletofinishyourlifeinaplacewhereguitarplayerslikethisoneplaysforfreeeverynight (Usual one-off hashtag... But a real wish!) #udenfilter #mantelmomento (her: Fado na Morgadinha)

So very true...

The real test of progressiveness will be when a minority wins an award or achieves something for the first time and there is no Fanfare about it.

Som var ord...

Som var ord…

Hov, undskyld. Der var lige et slip, et sug i maven, en bid afstand, en mundfuld tomhed. Et rum imellem eller et hul i rummet. Som en gammel radios vaklen mellem to stationer. Den svage knitren eller susen eller hvem der hørte det hvordan, var lyden af en hurtig men holdbar sammensvejsning. Eller en zappen fra en stor finger, sådan stikkende ned fra en sky på en skyfri himmel, det må man gerne…

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THOSE INSISTING STORIES. And so the stories forced their way back. Not readable, not even as individual or separated tales. Not narratives. Yet. For very good reasons: I've tried to keep them out of my head. Reality had pushed aside fiction. I had told myself, trying to be serious. Yeah right. As if… Only fooling myself. This gave me a new insight. Don't know if I dream in colours. But my stories start out in all of the rainbows. Plus some. Fills my head, not even really born, but in random patterns. That of course aren't random at all. Changing for every time they block my view to reality. Thus making me doubt what's real and what's fiction, but then I just shrug: Back to the usual mindset. The stories are as real as any kind of reality. Now I know how they appear before they are conscious. Before they know themselves. Guess I better help them. Guess that's my purpose. Being the midwife of my own imagination. Forming my fiction. #mantelmoment #mantelmomento #danielmantel #danielversionII #fiction #stories #backoninstagram #toomuchreality #brainwork #pattern #colours #fictionoverreality #isthisme #question #answer #meandmymind #icanlivewiththat #afteralotofoftoomuchrealityitsactuallyarelieftoseethestoriesbeginningtoforminsidemybrain (Usual one-off hashtag) (her: Fix My Brain) https://www.instagram.com/p/BpB5g3DHgRn/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=14gmgtp1zb9hm

https://mantelsroman.wordpress.com/2017/11/27/fejlbestilt-start/ #https://mantelsroman.wordpress.com/2017/11/27/fejlbestilt-start/ Danish prose... Sorry for everyone except the few millions reading that little language... #mantelmomento #danielmantel #laurieandthestoryof (VERY much the first lines of...) #primeiroproximopasso (AS WELL for Senhor Passo too!) #fiction #prose #mystory #novel #workinprogress #insideout #momentofzen #cafe #sosimple #start #momentofreflection #udenfilter #future #theveryfirstlinesincomingnovelinprogressandwillbefinishedevenifittakesfiveyearsorwhatever (Usual one-off hashtag) (her: Deep Inside)

I’m not everything I want to be, but I’m more than I was, and I’m still learning.

Charlotte Eriksson, Everything Changed When I Forgave Myself (via books-n-quotes)

Me too...