The wind blasts. It almost blows my hat off. The rain feels oddly comfortable. Behind the caravan of clouds, the sky is so eagerly expecting dawn it already blushes orange. The internal jukebox participates by choosing an old classic, Dawnrazor by Fields of the Nephilim to fill any vacant spots in my mind. Northern lapwings circle around me, weeping eerily to an accidental intruder. I wonder whether they’re polygamous, there’s three of them guarding a nest.  I excuse the disturbance and walk past them towards the forest, my mind occupied by thoughts about loss and gain, elation and sorrow, the harmony of Change…

The Grim Squeaker has visited our home frequently over the weekend. Farewells go to Ville & Ykä. For now, the blue brothers remain.

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