Chapter 6

The morning after

Talking to trees

I tasted the freshness of the day; it tasted like strawberries with cream. Without knowing why I started to smile, just a glimpse, but still, it made me feel ashamed, I tried to bring more blue to an already perfect sky, but the moment was lost, and so was the hating and the beating of the world.

Around me leaves started their struggle to redeem themselves from the stronghold of winter, as I passed the lake I could see the revolution of nature, birds flying in mathematical circles. And as I looked down I saw my feet among green straws of velvet. How was this possible, to go from a night of bad dreams and mischief’s, to this flourishing morning.

My mind stayed caught in this psychological tangle, like a cat playing with a yarn, and I got lost in my own pseudo psychological answers. No rhyme or reason seemed to catch on, and I was left with a set of lonely tunes, beating to the stillness of the park.

I looked at the trees as they swayed, and I embodied there complexion, from the leaves to the rugged bark, a body far from perfection. Yet they allure me and they always do, they find the loopholes in my sanity, and they don´t try to correct them. They just whisper:

- You´re a fool! And I reply

- Yes I’m a fool, and I think I regret it.

At the same time as I walked along the shoreline, where little ducklings was paddling against the stream; my mind was resting from the stressful eve. I started to whistle on an old tune, a piece written long before I knew, about the troubles of living a life on my own and one with you.