The mind and consciousness move freely through time and space.
Nevertheless, this is the place from which they start all their travels.
The man is moving on the roof. He has written a poem about a bird that bumped her egg against the eaves. In those days, we didn’t have much hay in the laying house, and the floor was just bare plywood. The man comes inside and says: “I imagined that I was pushing the snow down a mountain.”
For a mountain, there’s an unusually large number of trees here. Only the top is bare, and snow may occasionally become packed. This is when the man climbs up with a shovel. Then we hear a big thud as the wet snow falls down.
Saara Hyvärinen, 1979, Hyvinkää
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