|As I was bent over in the middle of the pavement in town this afternoon, busy prizing out a grasshopper from between the tile cracks, a pink butterfly in the guise of a young girl stopped in her tracks and gazed longingly at the insect now lying in my hand. I asked her if she wanted to have a closer look, without hesitation she grabbed the huge green object and immediately tore off a leg, by accident. Her mother, for she was not walking the streets alone, warned her to be careful. To which the child replied, oh mummy, it doesn't matter, he's dead he can't feel anything anymore.|
Throw it into the grass, her mother suggested, please no, I interjected, I'll take it back home with me and introduce him to some other friends of mine; she, the mother that is, must have doubted my sanity, if only for an instant.
The butterfly reluctantly returned the grasshopper and watched closely as I wrapped him in a bit of cellophane I happened to find at the bottom of my bag.
I asked her name, she all of a sudden became very shy, as children up to a certain age do when confronted with such a personal question, her mother answered in her stead. Well, bye for now Bente, take good care of yourself and I'll look after Grasshopper; we went our separate ways.
it could be printed on small translucent pieces of paper and handed out to each person on the planet. Saskia's day. maybe then all our days might glow as best they could...and if not, those would have your day for their Heart
thank you for your words of encouragement, as always they mean a lot to me
do you think sites like a church spire and a shirt hanging on a line are so somehow basic in our visual vocabularies that they can create feelings of home?
and yes I would agree certain images mean 'home', depending on what you call home of course
(I mean palm trees and white sandy beaches mean holiday to me, but for some it IS their home)