I had a really long trailrun this morning. It wasn’t even 10 km, but really hilly and hot. In the end I had to do my best not feeling a loser. When I came home with blisters on my toes, A. told me she had an accident. She turned around on a gravel path and fell with her head on the stones. The owner of the house heard her screaming and helped her. There was blood everywhere and A. told the lady that it didn’t matter for het clothes because we always buy them secondhand. The lady liked that. I found some sage on our round through this tiny village. The giant antique mirror came from the wall and down the stairs. At that moment we were not going up or down.
We can hear the tawny owl. That is so beautiful. And I saw it fly away in the early morning. I finished the book by Lara Billie Rense. It deeply affected me, even as if it is a blue print of my inner wonderings and being. I started to read ‘Gathering Moss’ by biologist Robin Wall Kimmerer. During our walk we entered a tufière, a place in the forest where mosses turn into tufstone by cause of the chalk richness of the source. A. said a beautiful sentence about blue but I didn’t wrote it down. Something like: ik hoop wel dat dit blauw het blauw is wat ik bedoel. Do color’s have a say about themselves, something with a soul, a character, do they send out messages? Kimmerer: ‘My thoughts feel noisy here, an annoying buzz disrupting the slow conversation among the stones.’ I am training my left handed writing by filling four star sudokus.
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