It was time to go to India.
There was a traveling company forming, but the plans were for the autumn, and it was just spring. I had finished my Chinese translation and almost finished the mandala. I printed 200 copies of the Dao De Jing and bound them in a soft cover in the Chinese fashion; a linocut with the title glued on. I hawked them among friends and sold them to the hippie stores to get money for the voyage.
For the summer I went with Fut to Sweden. My friends Loa and Nahoum had a house in Småland, a densely forested area to the north of Skåne, the former Danish part of Sweden. We build a small hut in a clearing a short distance from their house. It was made out of an old barn door and other discarded materials, and we named it the Samurai hut. I painted a Buddha on a big boulder and lived here for a couple of months, sometimes alone, sometimes with visiting friends.
It's me to the leftFut was always ahead of me; he stayed only a short time and was off to India before me. Before he left we took acid together, and for the first time I had a less than blissful trip. I felt estranged, enclosed in myself, unable to communicate and even not interested in it. In the end a warm hug from Fut brought me out of it.
Before leaving I wrote about the last night:
"The last night in the Samurai house is completely hushed. The path is cold and wet. Entering the Samurai clearing I penetrate into the forest proper; blindly I turn in between the black spruces. In the heather a glow-worm shines. Not until right by the big boulder in front of the hut can I glimpse the white window frame in the blackness. I light the lamp under the lean-to and a big glistening frog takes fright and jumps away.”
The white window frame.
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