elleneri

Mostly I just wanted to have something more up than me complaining about not knowing what to write in a journal. So I dug this out. Liaden's story The first thing I can remember is sitting on my grandmothers lap and watching the colours of magic swirl around us in the late evening light. I couldn't have been more than three or four. Not yet old enough to know what a danger it put us in, even seeing the movement of magic in the air, much less the colours. I laugh in joy as one particularly pretty sparkle detours and twirls around my outstretched hand. I think that was the first time I had ever actually called it to my hand. My grandmother sm

...Last journal was nearly a year ago. But I never really know what to write in those things, so. At least I can never think of anything when I sit down to write one. Let's hope I can replace this one more quickly than the last.

I originally wrote this in Norwegian. The translation is by me as well. *** One morning, Albin was woken by the sound of something that wasn't there. That's nothing like being woken by a racket; because then you bounce out of bed, wide awake all at once. Nor is it at all like waking slowly on your own; because then everything happens so gradually that it's hard to know exactly when you realise that you've woken up. You just lie there, all of a sudden, and realise that you've been awake for some time, and then you either open your eyes and get up or you roll over and pull the covers over your head to sleep a little longer. Albin always got u