Forest is close, trees are far

ii. Bjerne

Dearest,

It's quiet in the woods. Greenery voices itself by shouts that my limited human knowledge does not understand. It chirps and hisses, lets me be a stranger without feeling uncomfortable. The gusts of breeze with which the forest greets me I interpret as hospitality. I play with the blades of the grass, but I don't pluck them when my fingers wrap around outgrows  because I don't want to upset the hosts. Not when they are so kind to me. Sometimes it seems to me that there aren't a lot of places left where I feel like I belong. Sometimes I'm not even sure they ever were ones.

I lie on the forest floor, the pines shielding me from the sun, and I imagine myself letting my roots into the ground, becoming an elusive, timeless creature carrying branches from the treetops for a crown, and no one ever finds me again. They tell stories of a girl for whom the mainland was not, and the stars were too far for her, so she found her peace halfway. Where her canopies touch the sky, close to Earth, but high enough where the clouds can breathe.

When I put on sunglasses, the world is a photo of yellowed edges. And the pines are black, motionless and the graveyard laughs with smiles of the long-asleep ones. 

If I move them away little bit, I'm in the green again and the past is out of reach. Bringing them back to my eyes, I bring back the feeling of longing but also the fear that I will see them in this yellow. But they live in another photograph. At the edge of the valley the frame is empty. How sad a faceless frame looks.

When I get to the heathland behind the church, the celebration has already begun. The monsters laugh, the monsters surround me, I find a free chair near Nigleas, but some furious monster with gleaming scales, drives me away. Later I see that the monster occupied  that very chair.

Not that it wasn't nice. It was nice. But with the wrong people. The real ones were missing to make it beautiful. Rowdy, drunken jokes would not make you laugh. They wouldn't  laugh on yours either. Because they would not understand them, so they would mistakenly write them off as affectation or conceit, then continuing on with their own. I wouldn't let you be sad. Maybe it's better you aren't here. I can hardly imagine you among people. Don't get me wrong. I'm not claiming you as only my own. because I'm neither allowed nor  it's right. It's just hard for me to imagine us among people. When I imagine us together no one can do anything to us. But when I force myself to imagine reality as it really is, it is ruthless and wicked and evil towards you, towards me, and it doesn't care what we say. We try but she doesn't listen. But worst of all, I can't protect you from the outpouring of hatred and you're sad and devastated because you just wanted to love. And they didn't allow you even that. That is why I keep you in my thoughts, among dreams, where the world is scattered dust and no one there can harm you. If I could, I would expand the bubble beyond the shackles of my imagination and wrap it around you so that even in real reality you are safe from monsters.

Old chiffon and heavy velvet caught my eye. Watercolor painting. Soft lines on rough paper. When Grandma notices me looking at her, she raises the flask towards me as if toasting me, then takes a sip. 

Grandma understood before all of us. She had a lot more time, for sure. But still before any us. Staying normal is not the purpose of life. Staying your own is something that works for you without much effort. What would Grandma think of you? Would she recognize herself in your demeanor? Are personalities recognized when they meet? Would she love you as I love you, without a lot of words and farce.  All of a sudden. Too fast for anyone to stop me. I fell, and when I realized I was falling it was already too late to get to my feet. 

She will hide the can while no one pays attention, just as I will hide my thoughts of you from the villains who do not understand what love is because they have not yet realized that you can love in countless ways. You are my countless and first.