Hjemmeside.

http://johnweinreich.simplesite.com/

Ved Vesterhavet.

Olie på lærred. (Opdateret). 
90 x 120 cm. excl. ramme.

Agt.

”Hvis jeg vil vise hende noget, og peger på det, kigger hun på min pegefinger i stedet for at se efter, hvad jeg peger på.”

”Det er nok fordi, hun ikke tror, du ved noget af betydning, og derfor prøver at lodde din hensigt i stedet.”

Meanwhile

The current moments butterfly suddenly settled down and revealed its timelessness. Far behind the eyelids rolled stormy waves against shores, while they whispered about times gone by and revealed fairy tales. 

Intense as kisses, and distanced, like they were observed through an inverted binoculars.

Meanwhile the mother fastens a button, and dough for buns is raised.

Øjeblikket slog sig ned, som en sommerfugl, og åbenbarede sin tidløshed. Langt inde bag øjenlågene rullede stormomsuste bølger mod kyster, mens de fortalte eventyr og berettede om svundne tider. 

Intense som kys, og distancerede, som blev de iagttaget gennem en omvendt kikkert.

Imens syr mor en knap fast, og dejen til bollerne står til hævning.

Surplus

Mother of Babbling Brooks watched the wind play with the wave foam. The lake was so large that you could take it for a sea, if one didn’t know better, and when the wind was playing with it, the rhythmic waves rolled to the shore, like they attempted to escape. This incited the wind to blow at the foam on the wave crests. It felt amused to swirling it along the shore, where it was briefly captured by stones and grass, while a part was blown up in the trees. They stood so close to shore that they could use the water as a mirror when the wind enjoyed one of its well-deserved siestas.

The sun broke constantly through the busy clouds, and every single time it managed to hit all accessible foam bubbles, and revealed live diamonds in subtle glimpses.

It was these billions of glimpses that had caught Mother of Babbling Brooks attention.

"How can I think of starvation when Mother Sun has so much surplus that she glisten in all the bubbles, she can see, even as they only lasts a fraction of a second? It wearies her never out, and she doesn’t consider these beautiful twinkles as waste of time or energy. I want to be like her."

At the lake an eagle dived with lightning speed, and shortly after it flew diagonally up toward the ragged clouds with a glittering fish in its claws.

"The fish have been a little bubble, among thousands of bubbles in the roes. It reminds me of the sun playing with the foam. Surplus, surplus, surplus, which also characterizes the grass on the prairie and the countless stars on a clear night sky.  I want to be like that."

I farten.

”Husk dog at bruge cykelhjemmel. Alt andet er hul i hovedet. Gør det til en vane.”

”Det hedder cykelhjelm. Og dermed basta.”

”Basta er en cykellås. Der er lovhjelm for at bruge cykelhjemmel, så vidt jeg ved, lige som der skal være lys på, efter mørkets udbrud.”

“Jeg tror, kæden er hoppet af. Men jeg skal nok huske hjemlen næste gang.”