I don't believe in politics. I do believe in fairy-tales.

There are moments in life like that moment when you start hearing the story, that moment when the reality loses its balance and the imaginary takes over. When you give up on your conscious mind and give a chance of existence to unicorns, straw bearded dwarfs, forest creatures living in trees and long grass, talking water spirits and boys stealing the moon. This moment for me is so real and so big. It seems that my soul expands twice and I get two beating hearts. It is strange to be so alive.

After moments like this, after days filled with purple sunsets, night walks, moon chase, candle and fire light, starry starry nights, smell of burning wood, hot springs in cold rivers, mountain snow, fog, rain and mud - all on your face, hands and feet, melancholic guitar melodies, tree hugging, talks about screwed up society and the paradise of La Palma - after all that and more it is so good to be so alive.

When sitting in the back of the car and letting all the lived moments to gradually sink in and fade away, when the mixed feeling of the sudden emptiness and nostalgia is unfolding  - you see the perfect rainbow - and then you know that if there is this, there must be unicorns as well.



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