Moody tonight.
An old, worn down, dilapidated house…with some patches here and there. A mix of old and new. Warm, yellow light seeping through in some windows, only darkness in others.
Look closely and you will find a heart on the window sill, neatly camouflaged.
It is me.
I left Hovdala in the best of moods, heading for Magle, the water and the birds. I imagined the strong cold and the water would make some grand mist.
Driving down the narrow road I saw the sun throwing diamonds my way…
…so, I stopped to collect them…
…and I became very rich…
And, richer I would be, further along the road – at Magle.
The mist had risen from some parts of the ponds, but at the far end – it hadn’t yet. It took me some time to get there though, as only the footprints of one single person were there before mine.
I certainly was richly rewarded. As the sun slowly warmed up the air – unveiling the ducks, swans and cormorants. A heron gliding low in the mist.
The mute swans were showing off their beauty, while the ducks seemed busy just staying warm.
I was looking for the whooper swans, but they were not there. Following the path further on, I finally found them.
Three of them were balancing on the thin ice – while finishing their morning toilet.
The bench where I usually rest, birdwatching, was not very useful today…
Looking back a last time, I realized this was the finest winter day this year. Hopefully there will be some more diamonds to collect this winter… I enjoy being rich.
Sylvain Landry – Love. My two dogs loved each other dearly. And I loved the two of them dearly. Now Mille is gone and only Totti is here – left alone. Love very seldom lasts for ever.
The magnificent Dragon Wall, safeguarding the Yuyuan Gardens in Shanghai.
Thinking. Coming back again from Riga, Latvia, and a trip back in time. To my childhood and my cats.
How I loved them…and most of all Måns. Måns was my favourite… and only Mine. He was shocking black, and he lived a short summer at my grandmother’s.
This is not my grandmother’s house…but it could have been…
This is not my grandmother, sitting outside her house, waiting for me…but in my dreams, she still is.
Her cat, Rose (Rosa in Swedish), was rather wild – but I didn’t realise that. I always felt sorry for her…having to stay outside and never coming indoors for some warmth and cuddling. So, one day I let her in.
I should never have done that…I should have listened to my grandmother’s words. Rose went totally wild and scared when let inside. Of course I had closed the door – didn’t want her to disappear out again. But she was in shock and fiercely climbing the curtains, scratching and screaming…
My grandmother came inside and let her out. She never said a word about it…because she knew my heart. This chaos was punishment enough…and I was so ashamed…
Strange, how faded memories come back to you, when triggered by something you somehow recognize or remember. A house, an atmosphere, a tune, a voice, a word, a place…a cat.
And suddenly those old memories seem crystal clear again. They are just lingering there, in the shadowy, hidden corners of your mind…waiting.
And isn’t that just wonderful.
Måns? He disappeared the same day my school started again after that summer vacation. Grandmother told me. He had followed my steps, down the road and away to school. Never to be seen again.
He was charcoal black.
Leya 
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