Two tiny souls sits on the edge of a flower petal in the midst of a huge bouquet of flowers from all over the world, high up in the sky. They rock their legs over the edge. One has curly hair, the other one has a green hat.
The little one with the green hat asks: "What are we doing?
- Looking, says the other.
- What are we looking at?
- Well, the little one with curls say and points at the sky bouquet. - All the flowers are love stories. I collect them.
- Okay, says the little one with the green hat. And asks a little bit later: - What's your name?
- My name is Sore.
- It's a funny name. Why are you called Sore?
- It is Eros spelled from behind. You know him the God Eros, you see.
- Oh. Are you a God then?
- Yes, but only a little one.
- What are you doing?
- I'm doing the opposite of Eros, says the little curly God Sore. - Eros, he's shooting arrows down to people so they fall in love. I gather on flowering love stories and help them keep fine.
- How do you do that? Asks the little one with the green hat.
Sore points out the many flowers and says: - Every flower is a love story that belongs to some people. I keep the flowers fresh, and then I take the colors and the fragrances and breathe them gently into the mind of the people who have the flower so they remember that love is something you can only give and get. It's not something you can demand or buy. Love you can only be grateful for. I want them to help each other and I want them to be fond of love in all sorts and forms.
- Is it always successful? Asks the little one with the green hat.
- No, says Sore. - It does not. Not at all. Many love stories weep and die, even if they get help.
- I do not understand, says the little one with the green hat. Can’t you just breathe something more into their minds? I mean, it is you, who is a God.
- I would like to do that, says Sore. - It's just not how it works. Many people believe too much that Gods and others should solve their problems. Gods know everything and can do a lot, but eventually they have to grab and do something themselves. Sometimes it is also the best to end a love story, and make space for a new love story that can be finer because people have learned something important in the old story. And, in fact, love is spreading quietly in the world, so in time it will be easier.
The little one with the green hat looks at five flowers that float up against them. The five flowers twist around each other, so the stems are fully braided below. The little one points to the flowers and asks: - Will they just float up to you? - And why are they all braided together?
Sore answers: - Yes - love stories are very light. It's easy for them to float. And the five there, it is a family in which they are very fond of each other. In that way, there is more love on earth. Love grows love.
Sore grabs the interlaced flowers and puts them into the bouquet in a good place.
And then continue talking: - It does not matter that love stories are different. Some people think that there is only one kind of love story that is right while any other kind of love story is wrong. In fact, it does not matter what they are, or how big they are. All that matters is whether they are fine. Here is for instance one (Sore points to a flower), with two people who have loved each other from they were very young. They are so old now that they are actually going to die both.
Sore stop a little, look at the flower and thinks. Then he points to another flower and continues: - And here we have another love flower. This is two people who have lived with each other, but they found out that if they continued, their love would break So it would be better to live separately and be nice to each other and rejoice that they had good memories. I think it is as much a love story as the first one. Short stories can be as good as long stories as long as you look after them.
- And here's one more, says Sore, pointing to another flower, which in turn is completely different. – This is two people who met each other and were together for only an hour. Then there was war and they never saw each other again. But their story, it is here forever.
The two little souls sit silent for a long time and look at the sky and the flowers. Then Sore says: - I'm grateful for my flowers - love is wonderful.
Poul & Louise