To find a lost heart

I have walked in so many forests these last weeks. And even though I have also been standing in the strong winds on the cliffs along the coast line, high above the big foamy, angry waves, which are both powerful and loud, being in the woods means a safe, soft, moss-covered embrace and, except from the bird song, a quite impressive silence.

That scent of trees and moss-covered stones and the sound of a small creek that ripples its way through the trees is like finding something lost. And when the rain suddenly stops dripping down from the grey sky, the sun is creating beautiful patterns through the branches. 

It looks like a John Bauer world, where the little princess Cotton Grass is sitting on the ground, looking down in the water trying to find her lost golden heart. She refuses to leave until she finds it.

It is a safe world, the one in the forest. Far away from environmental disasters, war zones and famine. A place to hide. And to wait until a lost heart is found and a tired soul is healed. Because then it is time to stop hiding and do something. Just something. To make a difference.