Winter

I had forgotten the subtlety with which Danish winter arrives
the messiness of it all
looking at the trees turning red, gold and brown
grasping the colours while they shed their leaves
the destructive expression, wind shaking the branches, eating the colours

I had forgotten the greyness of it all
the days that never fully become days
the hard rain which the wind forcefully impresses on my face
how it instills a feeling of being alive, of existence
while the viewed darkness will leave me forgotten in the opposite, oblivion

I had forgotten winter coats in November
and waking up on a Wednesday, pulling the curtains and seeing fresh white snow outside
I had forgotten how liberating it is to freeze my fingers, thinking they will fall off
only to remember that they won't, they will warm up holding a cup of tea

I had forgotten how scared I am of riding my bike in this weather
the wind taking control, trying to persuade me to loose my patience
the ice on the path, turning me into a paranoid freak imagining my scull cracked open on the asphalt

I had forgotten the beauty of the freezing sun
that envelopes my space, warms my back and highlights the children running past my house on their way home from school
and the plethora of colours that their hats and scarves present to the world
They do not shed their leaves, these children,
they do not abandon the colours

I had forgotten what I admitted to myself earlier this year
There's something about the weather in this part of the world,
it affects people's minds, makes them stay inside, isolated and private
Just when all I want is to welcome the world
There's something about the weather that makes constructive thinking implausible
something that makes it hard to see the splendour of everyday tasks
something that makes it harder to be stubborn, harder to breathe

I had indeniably forgotten how strong humans can be in the hopeless natural conditions of this country, this 'edge' of the world, my world
I had forgotten that candles can be lit, tea can be made, long hot showers and woollen blankets were invented for reasons
I had forgotten the joy of the combination of couch and book, a phone call and coffee

I had forgotten that it's just the weather and you simply have to deal with it...

A treasure

Today is the 26th birthday of my friend Anette whom it is hard to describe in words.



If I had words for the strength of her friendship I would write them...
If I had words for her beauty I would describe it...
If I had words for my love for her I would tell her...