Tankernes Vinde og noget om telepati./ The Winds of Thought and something on telepathy.

IMG_0649 En lille fugl sætter sig i træet udenfor mit skrivebords vindue. Dagen er grå og stille. Jeg mindes om vinden, som vi mødte da vi var ude at gå og den får mig at tænke på andre vinde; tankernes vinde.

Saari og jeg stopper ved en busk; sneen ligger overalt. Ind imellem er der gule pletter, som Saari lugter til.
En tanke om gårsdagens begravelse af min farmor dukker frem i mit indre sammen med en tanke om min mor.

Klokken er lidt over elleve ser jeg, da vi kommer ind. Præcist 11.14.
Jeg tager sko og overtøj af, fjerner halsbånd og snor fra Saari. Går til køkkenet og giver hende en pind, tørrer lidt blod op fra gulvet fra hendes ene klo.
Min mand klippede for tæt på pulpen, da han den anden dag klippede hendes klør. Sætter mig ved skrivebordet. Tjekker min mail.
Der er én fra min mor. Sendt 11.11.
Antageligt i dét øjeblik vi stod ved busken; den indeholder en beskrivelse af gårsdagen og min farmors begravelse.

Alt kan aflæses i tankernes vinde. Om bare man er opmærksom. ❤

————————————————————————————————————
A little bird nestles itself on a branch on the tree outside my window, beneath which my desk sits. The day is grey and still.
I am reminded of the wind we met just before, as we were out walking and it makes me think of other winds; that of thoughts. 

Saari and I stop at a low bush; the snow covers everything. In between there are little yellow spots, some of which Saari stops to smell.
A thought of yesterday’s funeral unveils itself within me along with a thought of my mother.

It’s a little past eleven I see, as we come back in.
11.14 to be precise.
I take of my shoes and over clothes, remove Saari’s leash and collar. Go to the kitchen to fetch her a snack, wash off some blood on the floor from one of her claws that my husband cut too deep the other day. Sit down at my desk and check my email.
There’s one from my mom.
Sent at 11.11.
Presumably in that very moment Saari and I were standing at the low bush.
The email conveys how yesterday went.

Everything can be read  in the winds of thought. If one is just attentive. ❤

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