Letting go

One of the daughters of my landlord, and a friend of hers, with a camera came to visit today to take som "memory pictures" of the farm where I live. The daughter admits that she is a bit sad the farm no longer is in the family but none of the children were interested in taking over it.

Her friend had a good camera and has an ambition to be a photographer so I also was interested in a few detail pictures for myself. When we entered the old, unused 18 century stone house next to my house they found a lot of nice details of the fireplace in the kitchen, the iron stove and other details of a time long past. 

When we left the house I heard a faint rustling from the window behind the curtain. A swallow had somehow come into the house, maybe through the chimney and then been caught in there, not finding its way out. It let me catch it in my hands and I carried it outside and let it go. It was weak but flew away, a nice symbolic finish for the daughters parting from the farm.  

I don't know if it's breaking any blip rules that it isn't my own picture, it's taken by Josephine, the photographer, but it's my hands releasing the bird.