By: Fredrik Zander Before I live I write this message. There might be secrets for you to know as my feet were below the ground that fed me like a solemn plant that whispered secrets in my mute ear; I didn’t…

  By: Fredrik Zander Estranged by adorers, Scattered in the absent wind; This vacuum is a bird of prey. Too late for the news of the world; Too soon for the fascination Strangers bring to light. “Could there be tomorrow”, I…

By: Fredrik Zander I can’t remember the name of the game; I just remember to wear and to bear My shame, In someone else’s name.   To see apart from a point of view, Try develop a photograph Of dew, For…