As we stroll along the seafront, among the pine trees, birds are singing wildly.
I don't know if I can trust this calm inside me but there is no need to know the future. The sun is blinding. It looks like spring but an icy northerly wind is blowing. On the sandy beach we sit down on a fleece while a few stray snowflakes make their way down from heaven. The melting ice makes a whispering sound.
Two friends, a toddler playing in the sand, and me. We talk about depression and sick children ... oh, yes, and giant wasps. And we pray, right there on the deserted beach.
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