In search for a home ...


You can never go back to the same place twice. Something has always changed a little. You have changed, the place has changed, the people in it ... it’s not the same and you need to visit it with new eyes, no expectations, no lofty thoughts of wanting to go back to something. You can’t go back to anything, things are in constant movement and so are you. You must keep moving forward, on and on and not fight it. The ones who fight the natural flow of life will go against the current and nature is stronger than will. 

I spent my youth on the road, running from something or searching for something — I could never figure out which one. When you refuse to settle down, are you leaving something behind, or are you running towards something new? Maybe both. 

I was looking for my place. A space of belonging and peace of mind where I could be greeted with smiles, accepted for whoever I was that day and let my hair down; not feel the need to be somewhere else far, far away. I loved the road because as long as I was on it, I wasn’t completely lost — I was still going somewhere and there was still hope for me. 

I packed up my room in Hamburg a few months ago. gave back my keys, threw off all the heavy possessions I’d collected the last 2 years from anxious living, hoping they would ease me, but they never did, of course, only kept me down and stuck. Things.. things.. so many things you think you need and sometimes I think we buy stuff just to feel like we’re living a little.. we’re not just scraping by. We have stuff. 

I had no plan, as I left. Just my dream. still. It’s still alive, after all these years. I still believe in it. In the pure, innocent act of sharing something with someone else. My songs, my voice, my stories... my attention? I’d like to give people my attention. I’d like to make people feel seen, and heard. I’d like to make people feel special. Like, you’re with me now. We got each other’s back. 

I get tired and scared, freak out and run away, because I fall into phases of trying to fit in. Trying to align, make a living, co-live with others. I panic because I’m still on this road and I still have nothing and I still don’t know how to pay my next rent or if this is all a big joke on me, no even cares but.... Then I leave for the road. Just a week or two. And it’s all right there. 

I have my dream, my vision, my guitar, a few belongings and no other plan than to sing my heart out for whoever comes to listen (however few they were) every single night, and I never feel so calm. So at ease. So aligned to my call and nature and story and I never feel as home as I do on that stage, sharing my stories, knowing things will be okay if I just keep doing this. If I just stop doubting it and dare to trust it, full out, no stop. 

It was different this time. I was not running from something. I was not searching for something, some far off future. I was right there, in it, in the middle of every moment, not wanting to be somewhere else or someone else. I was happy where I was, all the time. I was so happy. 

So maybe a PLACE of belonging doesn’t exist. Maybe it’s more a state of mind. Maybe that city or town, house or person was a romanticised idea that you can keep searching for you whole life, always being slightly off. Because maybe home is a state of mind. 

Because sitting here, writing this, wherever I might be, I feel at home. and at peace. and I am happy for the time being. And I know as long as I keep doing this, I will be okay. So maybe instead of searching far and wide for a city or person or job or house to make you feel at home, you need to build your home in moments of belonging. Doing something you love, with someone you love, in a place you love, right now. But tomorrow that place will be different, and you will go on, feeling at home, wherever you are, because it’s all in your mind, you see.

You’re already home.



- OdeToYou by Flitz&Suppe  >>>

- Om Mani Padme Hum by The Glass Child  >>>


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Behind The Glass

with Charlotte Eriksson



I’m a completely independent artist, living all by myself with no other support than yours. If you find any comfort or hope in what I do, my music or my writings, please consider supporting me, in order to be able to keep doing this. To keep learning, creating, growing and sharing what I learn. Everything matters, between a coffee to a donation for my next album. 

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drunk on someone else’s love,
or couch,
and I’ve never felt more at home.

I fled myself,
from the life I’ve built
because I’ve been inhabiting routines I don’t want to stand for.

Inhabiting skin I’d rather shed
but still took on
like a soldier serving his country,
for that’s what they told me to do.
But I was not
or wise,
but young and foolish,
for what is this thing? Trading passions for a tiny bit of acceptance,

and I am not a Sunday morning inside four walls
with clean blood
and organised drawers.
I am the hurricane setting fire to the forests
at night when no one else is alive,
or awake,
however you choose to see it,
and I live in my own flames.
Sometimes burning too bright and too wild
to make things last 
or handle
myself or anyone else
and so I run.
Run run run,
far and wide
until my bones ache and lungs split
and it feels good.
Hear that, people? It feels good,
because I am the slave and ruler of my own body
and I wish to do with it exactly as I please,
and living in this skin is hard and painful, most of the times,

because I never volunteered to take this on.

The daily sacrifice of heart over mind,
the forever on going task of explaining this and that,
and why I don’t want to look like this and
be like that
but still here I am and if this is the body I’ve been given I’m sure as hell gonna make it work.
If this is the place I’ve been given, I’m sure as hell gonna make this work.

So I fled the me that was never really me and I’m on my way. To newer lands and uncleaned streets
for I’ve had enough of childish safety in comfort.
Enough of all telling me to look and do, like this and that,

and I never meant to please anyone but myself
and you can call me selfish,
throw words like knives in the dark but I will not listen,
for not listening to sharp words brought me to where I am today
and I believe in the path I’ve been given. If my only task in this life is to walk it,
I surely will walk it
prouder than anyone else.

If this is the path I’ve been given, I will walk it
prouder than anyone else,
for no one else can.

// from my book You’re Doing Just Fine ☾

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