As you all know that The Way We Are – Dark Tales from the Himalayas is available for sale now in all Amazon channels, and today I thought that it would be interesting to share the story behind the stories; of how it came about and what they mean to me.  I started writing The Way We Are in Sweden. The inception of the stories began in the winter ravaged walking/cycling route that meandered quietly past the backyard of the flat we used to live in, in quiet old Kalmar. I used to take long solitary walks until my face would go numb and my toes as well, even inside those well insulated boots. It was on one such walk a voice arose within that said, write it! get it out! At that point I had been missing my life back home in the hills quite desperately. I missed everything about my shabby little town and a certain kind of yearning to just drop everything and travel back home devoured me incessantly. I dreamed of going back home, of having lazy late mornings, of being pampered by familial hospitality and home food. I pined for the attention and care that I found lacking in the west. I used miss having bed tea served with a rack of biscuits while you were still in bed and for the opportunity to be able to just recline on the bed or lounge in your corner all day long reading a book, watching a film or the telly, just existing in a state of languid inertia, without feeling an ounce of guilt. Life in Europe is a bit more different than life back home. Everything you do comes with a consequence, and quite a dear one at that. There is no time for lazy contemplation or profound cogitation nor do the  people around you have patience for it. The more you are on your toes, the more you run instead of walking, the better it is. It is a society driven by lack of time and the total sense of time. And there I was trying to make sense of where I came from, carrying all the essence of what made me and where I found myself. It was the kind of transition that did not hit me during the early years abroad, it was more of a gradual revelation that revealed itself atom by atom, moment by moment, minute by minute until, over the years it moulded itself into a huge question mark. The longer I live abroad, the bigger and stronger the question mark gets.

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