And then I Spoke.

And then I spoke.

Not with a human word, it wouldn’t fit. But I reply, I try to formulate an answer that will be understood. How do I explain the beauty of rust to a tin can, or respond to a question asked by a dying pine? A car track shows me what was here. I offer it my own footprints and they chat happily when I leave.
It´s amazing how much chatter there is in this world. As I look around I see my dog Zen concluding a discussion with a cushion. Apparently they’ve struck a deal and he is allowed to make use of it´s service and finally lies down. The pillow forms itself around his thighs and it’s pleased to please. I can only speculate, but Zen could well be digesting the conversations he had with the old caravan we met when we went out for a walk this morning.
As, not far from us, there is an old caravan. Broken windows, a torn mattress, lying outside under the pine tree that accompanies it. I greet him every day, but I´m not sure he knows the concept of a day. His time is different to mine. The caravan talks slowly most of the time. You hardly notice the cracks that are appearing in the paint. But sometimes things can change drastically.
Last week the caravan presented me a glass pane, double glass, 1.80 m long. Quite impressive. It was like a huge tongue, sticking out of one of the windows, as if it wanted to spew out some words. Copying our human habits. I took his tongue home, in the hope that one day I would discover what he wished to tell me.

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