Súrë

Súrë means "wind".

The air is not so good indoors. A boring, plain observation. Outside, the wind is dancing a wilder dance than even I, and I know I should open the door to let some fresh air in. It's not hard. Get up, walk across the length of the room, open the door. Keep the bathroom door shut or it'll beat itself to death.
Easy. Let in some fresh air. It's not cold outside. Just fresh air.

But I don't dare.

Because I'm afraid the wind will be that of early autumn, will have that smell in it. And even then, that's not my foremost fear. My foremost fear is that it is the wind that sometimes comes in autumn, the one telling me that I can't stay anymore. That I must follow, that I must go, that I shouldn't be in this place and certainly not stay here any longer than until the next ferry leaves.

While living in Gothenburg, that wind caused quite some trouble for me. It told me, come, leave now, the plane to Scotland, you know it leaves in the morning and you can make it for the one tomorrow, it has a place for you, follow me and go there! Then, was it two years ago, that I could not feel that in the wind? Had it stopped trying to drag me? I was afraid. Then I moved to Scotland, and up in the Highlands, in the darkening evening, up on Rannoch Moor and in Glen Coe, I understood what it was that had called me. (There's a valley there called the Lost Valley. This is a place I have yet to visit, but I've seen it from afar, and I need, need to go back there. There's something waiting for me there, I don't know what).
But now I am back in Sweden, and this autumn is going to be a bit... heavy. Wolf moving so far away is something I don't like. I want him close to me. And I, I have to work, and study, and I don't know anything about anything.
So I'm afraid. Afraid that the wind will grab me, rip the breath out of me and have me laugh breathlessly with amazement, and sing to me, swirl around me, and every fibre of my body and soul will long to go to Scotland again. It's a longing deeper than any other I have known of its kind, and it has me unable to do just about anything else at all.

Súrë...

I'm going to go open that door now.