out, where the heath stops, where the moor and the dunes take over to finally end in the roaring north sea – there you can find this little house. this tiny gnome home. the only possible path to it leads across a small wooden bridge, loudly creaking as the wild winds rush into it from the west.
the house is so small that one is tempted to believe that only gnomes could live in it. there is everything needed: a fireplace, a chimney, small white windows, shutters, a hand pump for water and a small shed for firewood. there is silence and the only thing you can hear are the distant waves from the sea, the wind whizzing in everything that is not either screwed, nailed or has roots or seams. it sings sometimes loudly, sometimes quietly in the long, dry grass and bushes. who lives there? gnome home?
© 2020 – oliver haas-jensen, all rights reserved