Summer of 1960 was the season of my life, war and poverty
had kept the family apart and for the first time…
and as it turned out, the last time too;
in a summer house overlooking a fjord and mountains that
still had snow on peaks.
My mother´s generation has long since gone, as has my
generation too and I´m the only thread leading back to that
summer of beauty tingled with melancholy. It was as
we knew this was the end, like something precious was
slipping through our hands.
The days we spent together were covered in a halo of clear
light before light dims and the future is a track yet to be
explored. Yes I saw the crossroad and took a path which
led me away from what I knew and held dear, it happened
this way, a kismet of which no one is the master?
Sometimes when driving alone I suddenly laugh thinking of
bygone days, laughter of love that will be with me till the end of days.
