Samlet blogtekst

Wittgenstein’s Garden (1)78. The deer is a frozen play of colours in the frosty morning. Ears turn and eyes stare; vigilance ticking between us.79. The only motion is the greywhite vapour from the nightblack nostrils as the lungs pump under the coat of fur; one second, two seconds, three.80. Greenish, yellowish, brownish, greybrown, reddish brown,…

DandelionVe grow in cracks, ve creep out of crevices, squeeze up between pavestones, wedge into rocks, sink taproots into the soil, spread across meadows, turn green to yellow. Ve drill into the underground, ve undermine the borders, ve fly with the wind.Ve have followed you since you first began digging holes, since you first began…

🇬🇧 Deceased poet as a garden phenomenon668. I could be cheeky and render the master himself, who in turn was cheeky in paraphrasing old Heraclitus: “Nobody can go out twice into the same garden. This applies also to churchyards.” *) 669. Here we are at the very intersection of language and nature in its reduced…