Julmarknad vid Ulva kvarn
Ulva har en lång historia.
Redan på 1300-talet skrev någon namnet med en fjäderpenna som lämnade bläckfläckar av sin egen tid. Den kvarn som står där nu är från 1750-talet. Robust, säger man. Jag tänker snarare: envis. Den har bestämt sig för att stå kvar, oavsett vad människor och vatten hittar på.
Flera personer som jag kände kom förbi bokbordet på lördagen - inte minst våra goda vänner Ingela och Martin och Karla med familj.
It is so incredibly fun...
... to talk about books and tell an engaged audience about my books!
During two days at Ulva Kvarn's Christmas market, we had the opportunity to meet many curious people, and I managed to sell out all the books I had brought with me –
even the books that were displayed in the rain and damp were sold at a reduced price.
I also had the opportunity to talk to two warm people: the poet Ildikó Asztalos Morell and the author Jan Mikael Props...who both shared a table with me.
Ulva Kvarn is located by the Fyris River.
A place that doesn't make a big fuss – it just sits there, as if it always has and always will. A few miles north of Uppsala, but also far away from everything that rushes and wants to move forward.
The name is said to come from Ulva Vad. A ford where wolves were said to cross, as if they too needed a path, a passage through life. I imagine them at dawn, their thin legs, their alert eyes, how they tread over the stones while the river roars its eternal roar. The wolves and the water, two things that know that time passes, but do not let themselves be stressed by it.
Ulva is steeped in history.
As early as the 14th century, someone wrote the name with a quill pen that left ink stains of its own time. The mill that stands there now dates from the 1750s. Robust, they say. I think rather: stubborn. It has decided to remain standing, no matter what people and water come up with.
There was a manor house, a sawmill, a weaving shed. Everything that belonged to a time when people did things by hand – before hands were replaced by machines, which were replaced by something even faster. All of this is now just a shadow in the grass.
Our table was to the left of a stall where the owners sold delicious cheeses. To our right was a stall with knitted mittens, hats and scarves.
It was a mother and son who ran the business.
The mother knitted absolutely wonderful mittens, and it was impossible not to take some home with me... It turned out that I had already bought a pair of mittens from her last year, as she recognised the ones I was wearing.
I had the luxury of having Fredrik and my nieces and nephews help me set everything up.
Several people I knew stopped by the book table on Saturday – not least our good friends Ingela and Martin and Karla with their family.
Jan Mikael Propst's book Arturs dokument attracted a lot of interest among visitors, and I got a signed copy from him before the day was over.
I have already started reading it with great curiosity.
The book is well written and includes, among other things, photographs and maps from concentration camps that have never been published before.
Retrieved: "Artur is 20 years old when the story begins in 1938. He is an atheist but of Jewish descent. In his home in Vienna, Austria, he is forced to say goodbye to his family. Now begins his escape from Nazism.
In a dramatic and personal eyewitness account, we follow Artur's escape to Switzerland, then on to France, his forced enlistment in the Foreign Legion, his stay in North Africa and then his return to France. There he is reported and captured to be deported to the Auschwitz death camp.
The story is a raw and brutal account, which also contains friendship, love and hope. The reader follows the fate of a vulnerable person during wartime. Artur's document is a shocking book about exclusion, refugee status and anti-Semitism, but at the same time provides an easy-to-read, exciting description of the Second World War and how it affects the lives of individuals.
The story touches on issues that have regained relevance and can inspire engagement in the fight against rising xenophobia. Ultimately, the book is about our right to a dignified life and about never, ever giving up, no matter how dark things may seem."
On day two, I had the honour of standing alongside a wonderful poet, Ildikó Asztalos Morell.
I had already bought one of her books and today I bought the second. One of her poetry books has been set to music by a famous Swedish composer.
Here is a sample:
Dream Hunter
As a dreamer,
Longing for a good word,
With her sleeves rolled up,
She kneaded dough.
Dawn had barely touched her,
She was already away from home,
She stood singing on the podium.
No one answered.
Her letter fell unopened into
The selective paper collection.
They didn't understand
What did she really want
With this rolling pin?
Why didn't she leave it at home?
And the wooden spoon?
What is it doing on the lectern?
Why should it be so important?
(Ildikó Asztalos Morell)
Plot: "A journey through the healing process of grief and the challenges of the multifaceted world of love.
Freedom from grief: Explores healing processes to move on from being stuck in grief.
Multifaceted love: Challenges vulnerability and explores different dimensions of love.
Dysfunctional love: Explores power imbalances and feelings in wounded love, beyond romantic ideals.
Language: Swedish
Liberation offers a moving journey through grief and the complexity of love. You will gain insights into the vulnerability and power of relationships. Read it to understand and process your own feelings...Liberation is a journey through the healing process of grief and is dedicated to those who are stuck in their grief and want to move on. Love is multifaceted and challenges our vulnerability. To love and be loved is a basic human need. We cultivate a cult of romantic love, which is built on reciprocity and respect, while love is far from always being reciprocal and respectful. The monodrama explores feelings that flare up in a dysfunctional and wounded love with an imbalance of power."
While the first day was crisp and cold in the morning, the days became increasingly wet. On day two, we stood with umbrellas and there was compact mud further down the hill and in the upper half of the market.
I felt sorry for the sellers there!

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