there is something special and slightly melancholic about standing in a parking lot in the rain, watching all the cars coming and going (and standing still).. the people in them, warm and safe, cased in glass and metal, while I stand in the rain, watching.. and – as in the case of last Monday – took strange photos of autumn leaves.

there is something sad about train stations in autumn; the grey, heavy skies and the rain, the sun hidden, the trains bodies of grey which has lost all the healthy, bright cheerfulness.. and now they are just going somewhere, going around, back and forth, but they can’t escape the coming cold.

the light is changing.


Isn’t it strange how you sometimes think you know a person, and then it suddenly does something you had never thought it capable of doing? Something you had never even imagined it would/could do? And then you sit there, surprised, slightly alarmed, and you wonder what else you may be wrong about…
I try not to think I know people, because usually I don’t know people, not even my closest friends.. but still, even I fall in that trap. At least this time, I wasn’t the one to get hurt. For once.

Cat has returned into my life. We will see how this works out. He brought chaos with him as always, but I calmed down after two weeks of constant thinking. I have grown a lot in these long years, and even though it is interesting and fun to have him back, he’s not overly important any more. I thought he would be, but I guess I’m secure enough in myself now. I used to love him because he was like I wanted to be like. And now I love myself because I am the one I want to be like.

I am the red-haired girl who plays Go against tigers and sings to the night, with a recorder like a sword at my side. A recorder feeling better in my paws than any knife or sword has ever done. A series of letters, characters, written on a slip of white paper with a red pencil, gently folded and resting in my scarf as if it was something that would bring me some sort of salvation.
(in a way, it actually even did)

Soon there will be winter, and I will hide inside my lair, watch the winter from within my safe haven. Hiding, resting, wrapped up tightly within words and patterns and stillness and quiet and archaic words once again. Waiting for spring and returning life. I will cover my embers with ash and cold dirt so that they will glow – in the darkness hidden – all through the winter. If there is nothing to feed the fire, it must be covered so that it doesn’t burn itself out. But I have learnt by now that it can survive, and in April I carefully dig them out again with frozen paws and feed the flames with regrets and the returning life.

I can do this again.

Interesting books, warm tea, hot glögg, archaic words, winter starvation, still and cold silence…
Paws that take in plants for the winter, save that which can be saved and leave the rest to fade and die and sort itself out for another winter. Eyes that watch life fading, going to sleep once again, knowing that it will return once more on the other side of the freezing cold.
A recorder at my side, and letters I’ve learnt by heart.

And I’m waiting.

/pao – 15 sept 2010 – 18.47

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