![]() In his inimitably sensitive style, he writes about the moon, water, messiness, owls, birthdays-to name just a handful of his subjects. In preparation for her arrival, he takes stock of the world, seeing it as if for the first time. In Winter, we rejoin the great Karl Ove Knausgaard as he waits for the birth of his daughter. In just a few months, I will see you for the first time. ![]() In my life it almost never happens anymore. It's strange that there is a first time to see a face, a tree, a lamp, pajamas, a shoe. It's strange that there is a first time to see the sky, a first time to see the sun, a first time to feel the air against one's skin. ![]() The second volume in his autobiographical quartet based on the seasons, Winter is an achingly beautiful collection of daily meditations and letters addressed directly to Knaugsaard's unborn daughterĢ December - It is strange that you exist, but that you don't know anything about what the world looks like. ![]()
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