Bokelskere.no

Things that don’t belong to you. Money, and smaller objects at first that you think won’t be noticed and which you can turn into cash. But none of them matters so much as what disappears in you.

A son so full of shit that it leaches to the surface of his skin and finds expression in pitted blemishes like some piece of bruised fruit. The fruit of my loins, that’s what they call your child, so this is to be my life’s harvest.