On my walk today, this is what I was asked by a snail: “How far is it to 2020?”
One day, my son will wake up and find himself floating in water. His bed, his devices, his empty pepsi cup, his stress ball, his cats — perched on the footboard, waiting to see what happens next, as cats always do — floating. The water will rise and cover him. But he won’t be afraid and he won’t hurt. Because he will know that he’s drowning in my love for him.
Dear planetary midgets called humans, why can’t you remember that we have not inherited the Earth, we’ve borrowed it from future generations?