A little while later, we’ve been running these Boosts for months now — these raw, no-holds-barred sessions where people crack open their chests and let the light (or the darkness) spill out. Late winter 2014, Stockholm’s gray slush clinging to everything we regret. We’re in one of those Vuxenskolan classrooms on Kungsholmen: small, drafty, fluorescent lights buzzing like trapped insects. It looks like any adult-education setup, but now it’s more — it’s a pressure cooker for the soul.
The usual suspects show up: Linus with his quiet intensity, Christian steady as a rock, Maria Paz radiating that gentle, listening grandmotherly fire, a few other girls carrying their own quiet storms. And then — Sabina Tabaković drifts in. The gorgeous, self-taught photographer who’s all dreams and vintage lace and forest-moon heartache (if you ever scrolled her old blog or Instagram, you’d know: she lives in that hazy borderland between fairy tale and real life). Quirky, otherworldly, aesthetic to the bone. She stumbles through the door like she’s stepping out of some Brothers Grimm illustration, long socks pulled up high with this subtle, not-quite-Christmas pattern — X-squares or something Bavarian, lederhosen-country vibes. Long brown hair cascading, feigning oblivion to the gravitational pull she has on the room. But she knows. She knows she’s beautiful and untouchable, a walking poem that makes everyone else feel briefly fictional.
She makes her entrance a scene: “Oh, I’m here,” she announces with that happy, funny lilt, and the room instantly bends toward her. No one minds. They go along because it’s impossible not to.
We dive in. The boost unfolds like it always does when the energy is right — Christian steps up, raw and real; Linus follows, cracking something open inside himself; Maria Paz pours out her light. Even Sabina takes her turn, tears slipping down those perfect cheeks, voice trembling just enough to remind us we’re all human under the art. The whole thing turns electric, one of the most unforgettable boosts I’ve ever led. When it’s over, I look around at these flushed, open faces, my own eyes watering, and I say it straight: “Do you realize how beautiful you all are?”
And then we melt together. Hugs, nods, quiet exchanges of affection. A family forged in the fire of shared truth. Bathing in that rare, divine connection — everybody’s I, everybody’s “I am,” unified in the wild creation of existence itself. Gratitude so thick were all drinking it.
Everyone starts to pack up and drift out into the cold night. Except Sabina. She stays. Sabina stays. Waiting. Christian stays too, helping stack chairs, tidy the space like a good wingman. But Sabina… she’s restless now. Fidgeting, glancing at him like she’s silently willing him to vanish. The tension builds, subtle at first, then sharp.
We finally flick off the last lights. The room drops into dim shadow. And out of nowhere — bam — she pulls down her pants, voice urgent, quite desperate: “Please take me now. Take me now.” She leans in, grabs me, drags me toward the table, lies back on it and starts moaning, lost in some sudden, overwhelming wave.
I’m frozen. Overwhelmed. Christian’s eyes go wide: “Oh… oh, this is black magic.” She’s in another realm entirely — eyes distant, body alive with whatever storm had been building inside her all evening. She must have waited for him to leave, but the dam broke anyway.
I see the vertigo of it — the divine high from minutes ago crashing into this raw, carnal plea. Something’s happening, something bigger than lust or logic. I can’t engage, not like that. I hug her instead — tight, grounding, wordless. We don’t go further. The moment hangs there, suspended between sacred and profane, then slowly exhales.
She pulls herself together. We all do. Christian and I exchange a look — stunned, amused, a little terrified. Sabina smiles, sheepish now, the fairy-tale girl back in her skin.
We lock up, step out into the winter night. The memory burns bright: one of those nights when the veil thins so much that beauty, tears, love, and sudden hunger all bleed into the same wild current. Priceless. Dangerous. Divine. Something to carry in the chest forever, like a secret scar that only glows when the light hits it right.
