Engelska

The branch he sat on was creaking under his weight, but he didn´t seem to notice or care. He was shouting about being angry at his brother. I stood by the trunk and cried and begged him to come down, but he wouldn´t listen. <br/><br/>I will not come down until Gregoris has apologised to you! he insisted. There were two birds in the tree with my grandfather, one on each side of him. One of the birds was a dove, the other some sort of bird of prey, like a hawk or a falcon. <br/><br/>"If you won´t come down, will you at least save the dove? And look out for the other bird!" I cried out. Just as my grandfather reached out to the dove, the branch snapped.

Thoughts, and the story of a man with a heart, and a dream<br/> read the story of 'Diamond'<br/> old fashioned love, yearning love, lost? and found love?.familylife?read and find out, will he find 'her'?..the woman of his heart.<br/> sometimes wishes and dreams can come through?<br/> but before, we must dream

Need something to read? then let my 'small mixed writings' keep you company, I hope you find some piece you like. hope you enjoy.

"[...] their single purpose is to keep us here, alone, chained to the corners of our rooms there will be no other truths than the single ones, no dreams but your own i do, all, to be next to you, there will be no other dreams than yours, the ladies leave you, weeping, let other feelings be mixed, this, stay imprisoned, cornered, as man, sample others, to stay, you are not unique, dreams are chained to what she says you hear no other dreamers, all is quiet at night, you can't hear them die, listen closely, as you fall fast asleep at night, can you hear them cry, can you hear her cry there's no decision to make, you just roll with the punches, at night, citylights never blind the drunken or even the ones that stumble from trashcan to traschcan, the ones called hobos, bums, the one "most likely to succeed" the one with the pressure, the ones that want to be free, the ones she wants to leave coffee, seem to be the same as always, phone doesn't work, searching for the other other one, it's morning, with wind from the pacific coming in, coming in to work too late, wouldn't mind sleeping another day, cause i'd like to be here if she calls, don't mind going to work, i don't do anything at home, watching them all walk by, down by the supermarket, the mother is her daughter, the father is my son, can't find the phone, bust that safe, see the true form the others, the other ones that are competing for the same, the same as you need, open the door, it's not even the ones you missed it's, the ones you will miss, dont even miss her when you should, to busy being bad, like thoughts go, go alone, don't let us follow this is not the way it's supposed to end it's like i'm obsessed with her, can't find my way back, i can't sleep, unless i drink myself into a coma i never intended this, or wanted it to be this way, like everyone else i want to be happy, but without her it doesn't seem worthwhile, but i'll get there, i'll find my way back, find that path, the one meant for me, one day all this will be lost, then this will seem to have been a waste of time"

In the olden times there sat a man in a smoking room filled with peebles whom was all movie around in rythm to a tinny sort of nose emitting from a rotating, flat sphereoid.<br/><br/> The man signed deeply, for he had a habitat of doing so...<br/><br/> In the 23 different short stories that are in Me Book of Writted Thinks you will encounter ordinary people, strange people, sad people, pirates, ghosts, a fisherman, animals.... and meet such characters as Groobly Dershmant, Ronald Pyddlesnips, Lady Aberdeer, the Pleesemen, and Sad Jim. Written in Selanders unique comedic style filled with puns and nonsense, prepare to be befuddled, fascinated and fully entertained.

A story about a plastic knight, love, friendship, betrayal, potential axmurderers, the scent of lavender, Down syndrome, madeleines, Japanese capsule hotels, fifteen minutes of fame and how to bury an old lady behind the raspberry bushes.

The Apatride and the Confused dog is a short story about loss, freedom and illusion.