Long time ago, a storm announced it's arrival to a village. It was a beautiful day, the clouds seemed happy courting the sun, unlike us, fighting to own people and tying them down to our lives. This storm was not like the usual ones, but then, no two storms are alike, this one was unique just like every other storm.
It started at a pace it could pick up, so silent and beautiful, it was curious. It didn't feel like the speed was like it imagined, could it go a little faster? A little fierce? Maybe, add a mysterious touch to it's form, grow bigger. Look really mysterious, nobody must know.
It roared, going past things like a casual saturday evening walk. Flipping trees, throwing things in the air, going past everything like it never existed.
And then it reached the village. The village that survived so many attacks, threats and punishments of nature, the village that repaired itself immediately after every disaster. It was a virtue, the storm couldn't fathom. It felt challenged. It felt eager to run past the village, destruction was the only language it spoke. Some people or things are made to balance the good in the world, they are the bad guys we hear about. The guys who would make that heartthrob look beautiful in your eyes, that cute guy who stood up for you in class when the baddie was poking fun at you, why are they not given their credit? Isn't it unfair?
These were the thoughts of a little girl sitting on the porch, in the village. Should we try to know why these exist? Why must we worry and hurry around saving our things when the storm visits, of course, it sure does know it isn't welcome. Why must we refuse an opportunity to start over, pick things up and repair. Out bodies do it, the planet does it, the microorganism does it. Repair is how we function, it's a necessity.
Meanwhile, the storm picks its prey. Tossing and turning everything in order, no regrets.
The courting clouds are back again, this time, the sun is reluctant to be seen with them.
It started at a pace it could pick up, so silent and beautiful, it was curious. It didn't feel like the speed was like it imagined, could it go a little faster? A little fierce? Maybe, add a mysterious touch to it's form, grow bigger. Look really mysterious, nobody must know.
It roared, going past things like a casual saturday evening walk. Flipping trees, throwing things in the air, going past everything like it never existed.
And then it reached the village. The village that survived so many attacks, threats and punishments of nature, the village that repaired itself immediately after every disaster. It was a virtue, the storm couldn't fathom. It felt challenged. It felt eager to run past the village, destruction was the only language it spoke. Some people or things are made to balance the good in the world, they are the bad guys we hear about. The guys who would make that heartthrob look beautiful in your eyes, that cute guy who stood up for you in class when the baddie was poking fun at you, why are they not given their credit? Isn't it unfair?
These were the thoughts of a little girl sitting on the porch, in the village. Should we try to know why these exist? Why must we worry and hurry around saving our things when the storm visits, of course, it sure does know it isn't welcome. Why must we refuse an opportunity to start over, pick things up and repair. Out bodies do it, the planet does it, the microorganism does it. Repair is how we function, it's a necessity.
Meanwhile, the storm picks its prey. Tossing and turning everything in order, no regrets.
The courting clouds are back again, this time, the sun is reluctant to be seen with them.
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