Wild strawberries and strawberries from the fields of my parents.
Ferry rides and curvy forest roads. After a summer storm checking if the tall trees survived.
Warm glimmering waters inside those tall trees.
Warm and sweet, pine scents and first blueberries. The scent of lake water. Could stay in the water until evening.
Birch trees. Last night, Patti Smith told in her concert here, a story how birch trees are girls that danced so long that they turned to birch trees. Dancing forests.
Shadows on silver meadows.
Sunset.
Ninety years old sauna. The cosiest one. Watching as shadows grow taller. A few steps behind to pick a few handfuls of strawberries.
Strawberry fields forever.
