The cats sit on the windowsills and watch the dancing snowflakes outside. I watch the snowflakes too. We are safe and warm here in our comfortable home at the edge of a beautiful, mysterious forest.
How privileged we are.
In my imagination the snowflakes often turn into something else, as the powerless and useless words in my head come together and one by one form powerful and useful thoughts.
Sometimes the dancing snowflakes turn into the little souls of the countless animals who stopped living because humans destroyed their homes and made life unbearable for them. The little souls have floated in heaven for some time but they are tired now and they slowly descend down to earth to rest there in peace eternally.
Sometimes the dancing snowflakes turn into pieces of paper. They turn into advertising leaflets, flyers, brochures of plans that were never realized or political promises that…
View original post 1,612 more words