My Hiding Place

Hi, Sleepy.

Tonight we walk back to the old hiding place. The imaginary cabin in the deep Scandinavian forest, where the asphalt gives up, the gravel road gives up, and eventually even the noisy little generator of being a person seems to give up too.

There is moss, an old stone that should probably be touched, a deer path, a cabin with silver-grey wood, smoke from a chimney that nobody has lit, a chair that knows me, a kettle, books, Handel singing to a tree, and the strange relief of entering a place that doesn’t need to explain itself.

This is an episode about shelter. About thresholds. About being between the forest and the fire, between the outside and the inside, between awake and asleep. And perhaps, Sleepy, about finding a room somewhere in yourself where you can just sit for a while with coffee, old wood, and no particular assignment.

At the end, we go down to the black forest tarn.

And maybe we swim.

Sleep Tight!

More about Henrik, click here: https://linktr.ee/Henrikstahl

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