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5:35 a.m. The fox turns to me his pointed muzzle and staring at me from ten feet away, like all the wildlife nature trying to survive in this city.

Hey, I say timidly, and immediately, with a shaking hand, I punch in the code to the door. But I’m wrong. However in a few seconds, the glass is separating us. The fox flashes his saffron eyes at me. I feel sad in the darkness. For days now, I’ve been wondering why I’m afraid.

But life isn’t always what we think. We cut apart ourselves from unpredictable nature with apps, headphones, and daily schedules. We scroll through glass dreams searching for answers instead of finding direction within our heart.

The fox has visited this garden more than once. I’ve glanced at it from the balcony. Sometimes I’ve passed him on the bike. I saw it running behind the cinema. But this time he didn’t escape. He stayed with me like September.

Autumn is giving me its first Indian summer on the railing on Saturday. Even some tears were drying on my cheeks. Something tells me.

You shouldn’t lose hope,

it’s light to carry on,

takes up almost no space,

you can put it in your pocket like a passport,

(…)

You never know if you’ll get where you’re going,

(…)

sings Kari Bremnes, a Norwegian singer and beautiful woman. She’s almost 70 years old. She writes amazing lyrics which I’m just discovering.

Maybe the fox showed up to wake me up.

Title picture by Erick Mclean.