It is snowing outside and my mind tells me all kinds of things about the snow. It´s cold, it lights up the dark days, I´ll have to take it easy while driving, it´s going to ruin my shoes, it´s going to melt and make a mess and then freeze and it will be so slippery I have to take it easy while driving.
But it´s just snow. All the other things that I am thinking is clutter from the mind that more or less desides for me my state of mind about the snow.
The minds endless conversation is sometimes so laod that I nearly miss whats right in front of me.
Like love.
Love is just love but often we deside if it´s enough, not enough, good or bad. I do that, and within my next breath I wonder: who am I to deside things about love? It´s like the snow. It´s there. It just is.
Nothing more, nothing less.
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