Time-lapse
Thursday 29 December 2016
In the train to my hometown.
Yesterday evening the last butterfly woke up. It was dark outside and freezing so I kept it inside for the night. This morning the sun shone through the Japanesey roll down curtains and showed a silhouette of a butterfly flapping against the window.
When I opened the door and stood on the threshold, I could see my breath in the air, but the butterfly basked in the sun and seemed to enjoy my hand just fine. Its tongue rolled in and out, tasting my skin.
The furry bits of its back glowed bronze and gold in the sun, the eyes on its wings were set in silver circles and alternated between violet and pink, depending on how I moved my hand.
I stretched my arm out towards the blue sky.
"You can go back inside, no guarantees, or outside where it's close to freezing."
The butterfly stayed put on the back of my hand and for a while I admired the most precious ring I've ever worn.
Then it flew up and away.
'Ephemeral' came to mind.
It's an image I will not soon forget.
In a way I know the beauty of the moment lies in the fact that the butterfly will die soon, maybe even today. Mostly I just feel like crying.
It sat there so trusting, enjoying the sun, thinking spring had arrived.
Butterflies seek me out.
I've come a long way since torturing the family hamster.
-
Wow! Outside a town in the middle of the country we ride from a blue sky into a dense fog quite suddenly. One moment the sun is bright, the next it briefly burns like a silver coin, then it's gone, just like that.
Sitting and looking out the window seems to be a forgotten art.
-
Frosty silhouettes of bare trees in bent shapes dissolving into grey.
Monday 2 January 2017
On the balcony at my mother's.
We spent New Year's Eve at my sister's and yesterday her husband drove us back.
The fog has lifted, in the outside world at least. I just wanted to see what would happen if I tried to write something when in this state. Imagine being at a rock concert for five days straight, that's about the effect it has on me to be in my mother's house, with my mother, including a day with lots of company.
There's no room to recover, that only comes after I get back home to my place and aloneness.
But I started this new year in a good way. After kissing everyone and clinking glasses I went outside to look at the fireworks. As my mother was taking pictures I was saying "Thank You", over and over again. With all the loud bangs and crackles my voice couldn't be heard anyway and it was nice to say it out loud.
I started 2017 by thanking it.
I told my sister this is my year because I have decided to let it all go, the old pain, bitterness, resentment, and how the great butterfly awakening occurred at the same time.
Whatever else happens, I will be free of all that stuff. It has started and I am ready.
Dead-tired while here and sò far beyond my boundaries there's little left of me but the old stuff. But that's okay, it's fine. It's coming to the surface and that's how it will dissipate, either here & now or when I'm back home again. It doesn't really matter.
I know where I'm going.
I dreamed I was having sex with Death last night - that's a first. But it's all good. Iron rails, and all that. No doubts in my mind.
So now I'm on the balcony wearing two sweaters, looking out over the town, with the town hall, the church tower, masts and chimneys, and screeching gulls, chattering black birds.
Wednesday 4 January 2017
A few hours later, after what I wrote last, a perfect half-circle rainbow appeared over the lake. What a beautiful gift.
Late at night, before turning in, I stood on the balcony for a while, looking at the stars.
Yesterday we went to the cinema in the restored medieval tower where I hadn't set foot in thirty years. We saw "Snowden", which was very impressive and should be shown in schools.
On the way down the winding stairs to the exit I checked out the ancient looking, dark wooden prison cell with viking carvings/graffiti and a tiny door you had to duck through.
Now I'm in the train again.
Almost cried after waving my mother goodbye. In all her chaos and self-centeredness, she's also vulnerable and endearing. After all the clashes she seemed to want me to stay longer, but a week is enough.
Every time can be the last.
Without room to recuperate I get so overwhelmed I sort of live on the surface and lose myself. Need days to recover.
Hopefully we'll get the chance to do it again. I won't wait too long.
-
A little bit of rainbow through the window.
In the train to my hometown.
Yesterday evening the last butterfly woke up. It was dark outside and freezing so I kept it inside for the night. This morning the sun shone through the Japanesey roll down curtains and showed a silhouette of a butterfly flapping against the window.
When I opened the door and stood on the threshold, I could see my breath in the air, but the butterfly basked in the sun and seemed to enjoy my hand just fine. Its tongue rolled in and out, tasting my skin.
The furry bits of its back glowed bronze and gold in the sun, the eyes on its wings were set in silver circles and alternated between violet and pink, depending on how I moved my hand.
I stretched my arm out towards the blue sky.
"You can go back inside, no guarantees, or outside where it's close to freezing."
The butterfly stayed put on the back of my hand and for a while I admired the most precious ring I've ever worn.
Then it flew up and away.
'Ephemeral' came to mind.
It's an image I will not soon forget.
In a way I know the beauty of the moment lies in the fact that the butterfly will die soon, maybe even today. Mostly I just feel like crying.
It sat there so trusting, enjoying the sun, thinking spring had arrived.
Butterflies seek me out.
I've come a long way since torturing the family hamster.
-
Wow! Outside a town in the middle of the country we ride from a blue sky into a dense fog quite suddenly. One moment the sun is bright, the next it briefly burns like a silver coin, then it's gone, just like that.
Sitting and looking out the window seems to be a forgotten art.
-
Frosty silhouettes of bare trees in bent shapes dissolving into grey.
Monday 2 January 2017
On the balcony at my mother's.
We spent New Year's Eve at my sister's and yesterday her husband drove us back.
The fog has lifted, in the outside world at least. I just wanted to see what would happen if I tried to write something when in this state. Imagine being at a rock concert for five days straight, that's about the effect it has on me to be in my mother's house, with my mother, including a day with lots of company.
There's no room to recover, that only comes after I get back home to my place and aloneness.
But I started this new year in a good way. After kissing everyone and clinking glasses I went outside to look at the fireworks. As my mother was taking pictures I was saying "Thank You", over and over again. With all the loud bangs and crackles my voice couldn't be heard anyway and it was nice to say it out loud.
I started 2017 by thanking it.
I told my sister this is my year because I have decided to let it all go, the old pain, bitterness, resentment, and how the great butterfly awakening occurred at the same time.
Whatever else happens, I will be free of all that stuff. It has started and I am ready.
Dead-tired while here and sò far beyond my boundaries there's little left of me but the old stuff. But that's okay, it's fine. It's coming to the surface and that's how it will dissipate, either here & now or when I'm back home again. It doesn't really matter.
I know where I'm going.
I dreamed I was having sex with Death last night - that's a first. But it's all good. Iron rails, and all that. No doubts in my mind.
So now I'm on the balcony wearing two sweaters, looking out over the town, with the town hall, the church tower, masts and chimneys, and screeching gulls, chattering black birds.
Wednesday 4 January 2017
A few hours later, after what I wrote last, a perfect half-circle rainbow appeared over the lake. What a beautiful gift.
Late at night, before turning in, I stood on the balcony for a while, looking at the stars.
Yesterday we went to the cinema in the restored medieval tower where I hadn't set foot in thirty years. We saw "Snowden", which was very impressive and should be shown in schools.
On the way down the winding stairs to the exit I checked out the ancient looking, dark wooden prison cell with viking carvings/graffiti and a tiny door you had to duck through.
Now I'm in the train again.
Almost cried after waving my mother goodbye. In all her chaos and self-centeredness, she's also vulnerable and endearing. After all the clashes she seemed to want me to stay longer, but a week is enough.
Every time can be the last.
Without room to recuperate I get so overwhelmed I sort of live on the surface and lose myself. Need days to recover.
Hopefully we'll get the chance to do it again. I won't wait too long.
-
A little bit of rainbow through the window.
posted by M. at 2:57 PM
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