Family cooking books, gifts are wrapped, snowflakes cutted out of paper and dangling on invisible strings. Songs older then I am, happy and loud from every window. People smiling. The jolly season when you are happy and the only thing should bother your mind is “did my relatives got postcard in time. It is the right time to sing out load, dance on your way to work or do what happiness putted on the highest mark makes you do. It is not the right moment to get a news that sledgehammered ground under your feet. It is not the right moment to keep calm face at day, stay sleepless at night fighting tears, fears, despair. It is not the right time to be bound by promise with no other way then go to church and cry your heart out into the emptiness. It is not the right time to be bitter. Or demanding. Or selfish. It’s time to be thankful for every split of second. It’s time to cherish. It’s time to look at what into your palms and save it. Every single drop. So dear who or whatever you are there above us. I’m grateful. I do believe in miracles, I witnessed a miracle. Even two. I cherish and love, respect, embrace. In this very merry jolly season when people speak their hearts, have mercy upon us. Upon me.
When in doubt, go to a beach. I have something in my mind.
This year is almost gone.
Danes loves black. Black is the all year around color. Everywhere. Even for a sail.
To start Saturday by having breakfast at Hellerup Beach
Water running down