Gypsy souls, magic dust and life beyond the big 50.

I did say it would be an internet-free day but then I broke the promise at breakfast and shortly after I went outside and it has happened, it happened and I could help myself. I had to write. The birds are born. I was counting the days from when we found the nest and I was praying we would have the honour to see them and they are now born, a lot earlier then I thought they would. It's so beatiful and so promising and I feel excited though worried. I want them to survive, I want them to get stronger and come out of their nest and spread their wings in the air and fly away, free for their lifetime. I can't help seeing them as a metaphor of our changing lifes, although that's quite conceived of me to think so, but I really don't mind. Look! Isn't it amazing, just outside out door? I will not spend the day typing on the computer though. My heart feels so full of feelings and hopes and excitment and anxiety and ohhh everthing.....Not only because of the birds but becaus

There are moments where the (my) world is turned upside down by the simple lining of numbers, the numbers, when the numbers line differentely, bringing an undesired sequence. The numbers I talk about, knowing everything has names which I rather ignore, have been with me for far too long, past their due living time, so long they forgot to be left behind, so long they barely need me to be fed. They feed themselves, little devlish things. They feed temselves on the memory of bony limbs. of endless steps along endless pavements, apples eaten under the sun and that cleaness of the air (was it true, or is is just a trick of my memory?). These moments when I loose track of both ends, let them slip through my fingers ,I wish to be able to crawl in a dark corner, waiting cristalized until the numbers are re-alined and the air can enter my nose abd fill my lungs. I want to sleep until it goes away, I want to evaporate until there is order. I just don't want to feel the world like this.

Memory: The first day of the year when I was able to wear short sleeves used to make me feel like a bird somebody just set free in the sky. Smells, sounds and the general feeling of spring. Even through my worst years, later on, this feeling remained, no matter how faint. Nowadays, is becoming stronger and stronger again. I now live in a world of colors, flowers, creation, love, friendship and discoveries. Tempered by the ever present conciousness that we are nor eternal (should I say fear?). Learning to feel the eternity in each moment though. The flowers and the warmth are back, and I prepare myself to feel the air on my skin. Funny fact: For two days in a row, a bird came to our window, called for our attention and stood there, staring at us, while we stared back at him, wanting to ask him if there was something special he/she wanted to tell us. He/she flew away when I got my camera the first time, and flew away when I mentioned the word 'camera' the second time. I feel hap

Memory: For years, through my adolescence and maybe my childhood, seeing the sunset made me so happy that I wanted to run through a field, run through the beach, through the woods, express my happiness somehow. My heart seemed to explode with happiness, for a short untangible moment. The hour that followed always seemed sad though, that short period when it's not day anymore, and it's not night yet. The night represented curiosity and later on desperation..although not always. There was also a fascination about nights as well, there has always been. When I was little, I especially liked being in a car at night, being driven through the streets, watching the lamp lights, looking inside windows, having a short glimpse of somebody else's life. That fascinated me.