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  • When I was about twenty I dated a girl whose father lived in a forest. It was fairytale-like forest, with tall spruces and even ferns taller than us, and only sunlight sieving through rare holes between sprigs.

    There were lot of snakes around the house. More than I have ever seen. Poisonous adders. It was early summer and adders had just crawled out from cave holes where they spend their winters in big squirming bunches. The weather was still cool and they weren't as fast as in midsummertime. When we drove our bikes to the house we had to zig zag past several adders that were crossing sand road.

    We went for a walk in forest with my girlfriend's father. We crossed the swamp. There lived big, tar black adders that were two three times thicker than other adders. They were the most poisonous of all, you couldn't spot zig zag patterns on their backs. They were so black. Lots of hissing around from blooming blueberry bushes and under stones followed our walk like forest elves were whispering secrets to us.

    Then we climbed up the cliff behind the swamp. Sun shone down at rock. That was the warmest spot in the forest. Because of warmth dozens of adders had gathered on the ledge and they crawled and squirmed slowly with they bones frozen by long winter.

    The landscape from the cliff down over the forest was magnificent with all greeny hills turning to deep blue in distance but I didn't enjoy the view for long because we had to be stay out of reach of those slowly undulating snake waves all around us.

    I remember that moment quite romantic because of that long walk with my girlfriend. Even if I hadn't rubber boots on. Snaked stayed very close to each other, and so stayed we.

    Only years later did I learn that some architects (for example Antoni Gaudí) have used snake skeletons as a model when they have designed the vaults of cathedrals and chapels. Never before have I thought that snakes could offer you something eternal. Our snake-framed love had lasted only a moment. A hiss.
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