it’s no longer 34 degrees.
it’s 22 and the wind has its way of tangling my hair.
the sun greets us once again.
here on a day trip. just like we do each year. the same beach, the same place, the same lovely café. a place I don’t mind being disconnected from the world at.
in my fathers wind jacket I am lying on a beach on the west coast of sweden.
someone’s bathing suit has been hung in the tree next to us. but there’s no one around.
lying down, listening.
our picnic basket is placed in front of me. in it there’s a book, a blanket and our lunch.
now i’ll close my book now and then the day will continue on. it always does. doesn’t it?