I overslept and didn’t lead this morning gymnastics. My first class was with a female member of a collective poetic self and an asylum seeker. He was from Afganistan, didn’t speak English. She translated from Swedish. I felt deeply touched by both of them and by all we have had in the Academy, now in the middle of finalizing the last touch of experience. That refugee was gentle and beautiful. And he had a story for us, so far from my world: loosing parents at the age of 6; taking care of his younger brother; never felt Muslim in his heart and belief, but could not speak about that; his journey to Sweden took one year.

Thank you Sisters Academy. It was grand. You have my heart.