The bolts are from an old farm in the heart of a the area Bergsladen in Sweden. I found them in a barn. They had been lying there for a long time and they might well have continued to lie there until they had rusted away and returned to their original mineral form.
The bolts reminded me of human forms, and I felt they had something to tell. I heated them, forged, bent and twisted. I tried to create relations, meetings and situations and suddenly stories emerged about sorrow, joy, pain, warmth and humour. A kind of poetry was created, hence the title.
All sculptures are without title, it is up to the viewer to create his or her own. The bolt people are few in numbers, and maybe these are the last ones, but those that exist will remain to tell their stories.