2 months have passed, and the land has stretched to also become roof with the green all around. The grasshoppers have started to comment. So much life, and so much to spoil the senses with. Loads of herbs go straight from the garden into whatever´s for dinner every day. Having these circumstances is just wonderful. And at the same time there´s already a little sorrow for loosing all this in just a few weeks. The melancholic mind hates time these days.
It has finally been raining a little. That takes me back to a day last summer. Polarbear watched the shoreline with his february-coloured eyes as rain fell over Urbania. He talked about his car that he had gotten scrapped, and he said ..."Seeing it was fantastic. Everyone should experience that, the destruction of something valuable..." I wrote it on the back of a receipt, and it fell like a leaf from the space between the pages 68 and 69 a few days ago.
That same day I was baking with my neighbour, and in the evening me and Kalle, age 5, sat in the middle of the annual mosquito family reunion (everyone was there, it seemed) and waited for the rabbits to mate. A mosquito landed on the little fellows hand, and he slowly moved it closer to his face. Carefully and holding his breath he watched the animal as its mouth entered his body and the tiny parts started to turn red of the young human blood. The mosquito was just about to finish dinner, as Kalle lifted his finger and slowly squeezed the fragile insect into pieces. A mosquitos death is usually somewhat trivial, but in the head of the 5 year old something clearly happened. Just when the animal was about to succeed, he used his power. He was thrilled and excited over the squirted blood on his skin. Primitive zeal, - at this point in life still very spontaneous and utter.
There was a bit of the same enthusiasm in another local child when he described to me how he had caught a frog, rolled toilet paper around its trunk, lit it on fire and let the animal try to jump out of his burning suit. Most children get punished or taught not to do things like this, and grow out of it. Others have their perversions troughout life.
A whaling historian held a lecture in Húsavík last year, but he never got to finish his speach before he was stopped for his way to express himself. After the audience had left he said to a couple of us that stayed: "...Killing a whale is amazing. It might be more fantastic than seeing your own child be born. There´s an awe that everyone on board feels"...
He also felt that what we (in this case the ones working with conservation of whales) did to whale hunters (as a part of culture) was comparable to what the germans did to the jews.
Ethics. What a multi-faceted term. Is it an agreement to learn, or an unity to find?
