All in feathers

I love feathers.

Somehow can not wear skin of dead animals, and I do not feel comfy with wool… but feathers are me, only it is hard to make a T-shirt from them. Strange, not easy to catch, always following by the winds. When the birds leave them, they seem to live their new life. Suddenly free, suddenly not attached to a warm body…

… a simple pray.

A wish.

A dream.

Since few days I can feel seagulls. Can not just hear them, but also be followed and poked and whatever they can do. They seem to stay close to me and my gray crow. Here on Bornholm they are huge. And I mean really huge, like a giant chicken. Or a nice big turkey?

They walk on those fragile feet, and then they are up, gentle, white and grey shades… just a shape on the sky, simply covered with setting sun light… Wise people say seagulls are souls of the fishermen. Those lost in the sea, those so in love with waves and deep deep deep blue. What will they bring to me? Do not know, but sure I have some new visions of new paintings!

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