The warrior

An evening stroll to Duthie Park is never, per se, a dull undertaking, but if I ever expected to see something more exciting than an overly vocal oystercatcher, I would be somewhat naive. And yet, today, on my way there, when I walked alongside the River Dee, I noticed something extraordinary—a grey heron chasing another one away from the banks, only to be attacked by a crow after flying too close to its nest. I have to admit that this little black fella—well, little in comparison to the heron—made quite an impression on me. Such a daring attack is really something, after all. But that’s the simplicity of nature for you. As a functional adult, you either protect your hunting grounds or your offspring—nothing else matters.


More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

There is still something

From the shaded seclusion of a park bench, I pondered the wind’s indifference to flannels running between the wickets, almost equal to the blasé of the strollers sauntering along the paths around the lawn. This nonchalance stayed with me on the way back home, when I briefly kept up with the kayaking foursomes training on the Dee while listening to the song of wrens as they tried to be heard over the traffic. I guess, even if the nature of love has been hidden from me, there is still something to fill the void.


More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com