Swan A lonely swan paddles through a calm lake, trying to reach the other side. Spring is in the air. Water is calm. Swan is lazily looking back at his old friends by the lakeside. He can see their lips moving, bursts of laughter, their familiar voices getting more and more distant every second. That group of swans was his family, his friends. Or bewy, as group of swans is properly called. He once flew in the center of their wedge, followed and admired by all others. And they flew high, very high. And then they flew low, very low. But that is life. Highs and lows at the mercy of winds and storms of destiny. Now this old swan looks back at his friends, paddling slowly, leaving. Tears in his eyes. Calmly, slowly, paddling away. Shout from the opposite shore! Familiar voice! Loud voice! OLOFMEISTER I LOVE YOU! Olofmeister I love.. Olofmeister I.. Olofmeister.. Olof.. It echoes over the lake! Swan smiles, turns his head forward. Starts paddling faster. He has a friend waiting on the other side. His brother.