Ida Olsson: Andas Solsken
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There are no clouds. The sun smiles down, filling you with light, with life - all is well and you are loved. You breathe deep, the simple act of respiration drawing in every atom of sunlight, of reciprocated emotion. The colours are sharp, the summer bouquets bleed into one heady aroma and you lift your face to smile into the rays. Everything is right: of course it is. Of course it is.
But if one day the sun doesn't catch you smiling, if a love reciprocated is too detached from a sense of self to allow the light and heat to penetrate pale skin and cold bones - what then? Perhaps you breathed in enough summer to last you through the winter. Perhaps the only warmth you need is the warmth you deny yourself. Perhaps...
For now, though, the sun is shining. Close your eyes. Breathe deep.