Today, in stockholm, while I was having a meeting inside a cosy and overheated room, wind was raging and snow was falling down, timidly first, then hard, not with a vengeance, but the desperate will of a challenger.
In a few hours, autumn has been discarded and replaced by his half brother, hard winter
I don't remember which poet said the swedish weather was only composed of winter periods, one green and one white, which is extremely unfair to the midsummer period and its explosion of colours, flowers and women together, while the day just takes a small nap in the middlle of the night
But now, walking through the slush and sleet, and the cold breeze, with my autumn shoes and my summer suit, was a desperate call. I should have known it from the start.
However, during this long walk, avoiding iced water droppings from building edges, securing my hands inside my pockets, my head stuck to my neck, I realized something I had forgotten during the summer, something that was waiting, hidden, behind the cold
All these lights in the street, this heat streaming through the doors in the very short time they are opened, these reflections on the sodden pavement, in the drops on the lamps and walls, the air so fresh it breathes itself through my lungs, and jumping in small water ponds, all this is sheer joy to me
I can't wait till winter comes in at my place
sleet in the street
every single passer-by
dancing in the dark
snow falling down
the wind of winter shuffling
one million stars