I Made a Friend in Stockholm
For a moment, I wasn't even sure I'd taken the bread with me, but a little fishing in my bag turned it up, happily. I sat on the wall and the swan swam closer, hissing all the way, being sure to establish its command over the situation: "I want something from you, but I'll have it my way." A swan is a very large bird, but humans
Breaking and tossing commenced, and I made that one slice last as long as I could, filling myself all the while with the majesty of this fierce but nevertheless angel-winged icon of grace. This time I had the camera and this time I made good use of it, taking still and moving pictures, marking our brief encounter.
I say "her" because her larger companion swam in, after the last crumb had fallen, alas, along with a third. I tried the pith of an orange (another "stolen" fruit from the hotel) on them, which they took once or twice then rejected thereafter. And exactly when it was clear there would be no more palatable morsels forthcoming, the three unceremoniously moved on.
Back home in Dublin, when I open up to see the extent of what I'd photographed there, I am surprised to feel the sort of delight one feels when spontaneously encountering a new friend after not seeing one another for a time.
"I made a friend in Stockholm," I say to myself, and I know it is flattery or fantasy really, but somehow true as well. It's stopping that does this, I am convinced. Stopping fortified in
And so, I can also share her with you.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home