life cannot be organised

In a way writing is a desperate attempt at organising what cannot be organised – life. But we all valiantly try because what is the alternative.

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My cat Bunny has died. She was already dying when our friends, who housesit for us when we travel, called us to say they were bringing her to the vet. We didn’t know she was dying then – and we hoped not – but we cut short our trip anyway and flew home, because the vet said her condition was serious.

Her heart stopped the moment we reached her side. And now her body has been cremated and she’s a jar of small bones that sits on our bookshelf, next to a photo of her.

A couple of days after she died, the sunlight spilling into our balcony created a double rainbow on the floor, and the water splashes from the kids who swam next to our balcony created random patterns that looked A LOT like cat paw prints.

I took that as a sign that Bunny was trying to communicate something to me, which is that she still exists in a form that I might not currently understand, that she’s okay, that we’ll see her again, that we travel together in every lifetime anyway, and that in every dimension and every universe we’re always a team.

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I really enjoy hiking now.

I used to be a reluctant hiker because I didn’t know better, but now, I find hiking in the mountains one of the most life-giving things one can do.

If I have the chance I’ll write about one of the many wonderful hikes we did in Europe. Till then, here are some photos…

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