The Blower's Daughter

The harbour on a beautiful day.

The university started a week late because a strong wind arose and blew parts of the roof away. It was tragically funny because I had been very excited about starting the Master's degree, and yet my inner student also had to rejoice in not having any classes.

Instead I wandered to the Ostseebad, a beach a few kilometres from my apartment, and was confronted with the damage the wind had done. At the university it was shocking not only to see the destruction but also to realise that the building, which is only 10 years old, was shoddily built and that instead of parts of the roof falling on cars in the parking lot nearby they could've landed on one of the students or lecturers. But luckily no one was hurt, insurance claims must have been filed and now the main building is being repaired/renovated.

The Ostseebad also has a park and quite a few of the trees had been felled by the wind. I only took a few photographs because the sun had set and the inner voice that tells me darkness=danger forced me to return to the safety of my room.

I went again a few days later, this time before sunset (light=safe). Haha, it wouldn't have been so safe if one of the trees had fallen on me.

  

Oh no Cinderella, the sun is setting. Time to go home. 

This ability to walk around alone at all times is strange to me. The cold hand of fear refuses to let go and there always remains a subconscious scanning of my environment, checking for suspicious characters. Maybe that is another reason I am missing the sun and its warmth so very much: darkness means danger and an autumn where the sky is mostly covered by heavy clouds, obscuring a sun which only rises from 8-16 o'clock, well, hides not only the light but also its security.

Dark Storm

N4 just before entering Hatfield

It had been excruciatingly hot all day. The kind of heat that makes one listless, unable to move, unable to concentrate, unable to do anything besides taking a long nap. 

A friend proposed an art exhibition to go to that night, and on my way there the sunset was marvellous. This image does not nearly describe the colour of peaches and raspberries and cherries and blueberries all merging into a glorious end to the day. 

It is strange to think how we are never afraid at sunset, but as soon as the last rays are gone and darkness descends, real and imaginary monsters find their ways to scare us. A sound, which during daytime would not even have been noticed, can make the heart quiver in the night. Maybe it is the threat of the hidden, of that which we cannot see, of the surprise that might be lurking, of an unexpected pounce on our sense of security.