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Poems and short stories ©   by Arno and Anna unless differently stated (Disclaimer).

31.1.1999

There's a flock of a couple hundred trushes flying around in the threetops in our back yard. What are they thinking, coming here when it's only January? They're going to kill themselves... Just circling around in the sky in spontaneous formations and sitting down — all with their heads in the same direction, facing the wind.

Silly little birds. How I wish my life would be as straight and impulsive and emotional as theirs! They're part of something bigger, a unity, and they realize it. But they cannot survive alone and yet they aren't connected to each other as individuals, but as a group. Is that good? One little bird is free to do as it chooses — because it's not connected to anything or anyone. That's a kind of loneliness, too, isn't it?