Out of the way

Somewhere in a summer storm in Oslo, listening to a blues jam with large parts of brilliance and some parts of ordinary folk making an effort, I realised the black dog who had been following me for days had gone off into the weather for a while.

A bit later I realised how long he had been hounding my tracks - something that I tend to only notice once it's been going on for a while.

But he's out there somewhere in the world. He came and sniffed my hand today, and I guess by and by he'll be back for real. That's the way the world is.

There are times when it is good to be alone. And times when it isn't.