After my morning smoothie, I decided to go for a jog, with Atlas (my son) sleeping in the pram. I entered the crisp fall-morning air, thinking I should have brought some gloves, and that this little jogging-trip, in the rising sun, would make a great blog-post. That, my friend, I will save for later, 'cause a couple of houses down from our place, he was, standing on the top of the chimney - the sun rising on the horizon behind him, making a perfect black silhouette out of him and the chimney he was standing on.
I've never seen one of them - at least not at work.
The chimney sweep is almost a mythical creature - appearing in a couple of Scandinavian children songs, but rarely seen (you only get those notes in your mail about him coming, once a year, and that you should leave the ladder out for him). But here he was. Looking like a cut out silhouette, standing on the top of the chimney, lit up by golden morning light.
As I came closer, he released that ball-brush from his belt and lowered it in to the chimney. It was amazing to look at - the air he was breathing, coming out like silhouette smoke, wrapping up the entire scene with the man at work and the lighting - too good to be true. - And it all, tasting like something sweet from my childhood. - Like cold "knäck" (Swedish caramel candy, very often tasting a little bit too burned, but still, oh so sweet).
I was sad about not bringing a camera, cause I'm pretty sure I'll never see anything like that again. Now, in retro perspective, I'm thinking not having that camera was part of the magic - knowing that this moment will only exist like this in my mind. And yes - it tastes wonderfully sweet, with a hint of bitter. But again, that is kind of a perfect combination of tastes, isn't it?
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