A journal entry and some photos I took on Örö Island in Finland.

Military portals echo and transport me to a violent past, covered in a soft blanket of moss. Butterflies and purple wildflowers grow everywhere and distract me like an embroidered veil shrouding a history of grief.

Maybe I’m dramatic,

And then it snows, and the world goes quiet.

The next day walking towards the echos, prints of a fox and a vole circle around–

There are no secrets in the snow.

An echo reverberates through the island again, and then the light pours through the trees.
I can’t hear for a moment and look out to sea, the black deep swallowing up a single swan feeding on the open ocean.

Is it lonely here?

Snow clouds on the horizon glow oranges and pink. It’s almost dark and I pour myself a drink. Totally perplexed at my anxiety I sit down and watch more echos. Looking for a distraction, I google what other animals grieve. And I see news of a bolide over Norway.

Not sure why I can’t sleep. I watch more echos and then I wake up and take another walk. I see where animals have made their homes. There are no secrets in the snow, I repeat to myself.

Is privacy a right?

Do all swans find a mate, or are some always alone?

No light today. No distractions.

It’s my dad's birthday.

I google what animals stay in families forever.

Am I hungry or thirsty?

What am I doing here?

Yesterday I looked into an abandoned house on the North Harbor. There were beer cans and cigarette trash littered around an old wood stove. A very glossy chipped red door was the portal to the kitchen.

And then I saw a heap of feathers below one of the windows. I walked around and looked into the other windows. There were three of those feathered corpse heaps under each window I could see. It reminded me of some kind of curse a witch would make from the movie Willow (1988).

Should I have a child?

I think I’m thirsty, but I should probably only have water.