A little poem from Iceland about cherrys, corn and cats.

29.04.2011 kl. 02:46


Annandag påsk.






Väntade på mamma. Blev fotad av en turist men insåg inte att jag borde ha fotat tillbaka.



Bara man gör sig förtjänt av det (eller väntar med att komma tills 28e april istället för 1a) så visar nog Island sin vackra sida.
Min väg till kursen, cykelväg. Endast en av backarna. Det finns många. Men idag var det inte regn och motvind.





Kyrktornet är Reykjavíks centrum. Så långt ifrån är förorten Breiðholt.

He ate cherrys while he was biking.

His wife always gave him cherrys in the morning.

Her former husband had this need of corn. He needed to eat corn while he was driving.

One morning the cat had found the corn.

And there was no corn left.

That day the husband never came back.


One cherry once fell on the floor in the car.

It was found when the car were sold five years later.

It was a little girl who found it.

This little girl had gotten a cat the day before.

A cat of her own.

It was brown and she called it Brownie.

She ate the cherry.

Brownie did never see her again.