It’s another rainy day in Stockholm. Clouds are hanging low, a cool wind is blowing and little droplets cling to the outside of my window.
I rummage around in the back of my head, trying to find a thread for today’s post. What I find are moments, precious, little scenes sprinkled with magic.
I look at these moments through the keyhole of my phone, like I am peeking through at someone else’s life. But it is not someone else. It is I. A common I? I wonder? Same same but different. Original and perfectly imperfect.
I come to think of a story I came across by Selma Lagerlöf on Sunday as I was strolling between inner city shops with my mother.
It was called “The Path between Heaven and Earth”.
“Han hade velat vika in på en väg, som inte stannade vid något mål, som han redan kände till. Han skulle vilja komma till något obekant. Han skulle vilja följa en väg, som förde honom bort i det oändliga. Det var en orimlig önskan av översten, men den gjorde ändå så mycket, att han vände sig från vägen mot Karlstad till en av de andra.” (Borrowed from here. )
Loosely translated, it means:
“He had wanted to take a path which did not stop anywhere that he already knew. He wanted to encounter something unknown. He wanted to follow a path that would take him away forever. It was a preposterous wish of the grandest kind, but it did do as much as to turn him away from the road to Karlstad, towards one of the others.”
Do you not feel the same longing? I know that I did… Well, luckily, I still do. ❤