On love.

I need to paint the picture carefully so you fully understand the scene. My bedroom is slightly messy, stuff on the floor. Some things are mine but most of the scattered clothing of random kind belongs to my daughter who is either born without an organising interest or just simply is of the age when cleaning seems unnecessary. This is a moment of no specific importance. It’s an everyday type of a cut-out section of my life when it doesn’t bring any unusual excitement. It’s still. Safe. Yet in motion. Past is the future. What this delightful scene creates at a first glance is a life in two dimensions. A viewer from the outside would see the bed, a mother and a child in a common setting most of us can recognise. However, in the shadow of the simple dimension that is what you see, we’re missing all that we cannot see. All that we cannot see in this very bedroom. Since the room is protected by plastered walls, carried by old wood and bricks from another era, there is an outside of the room. A space where the scene is of a different reality. Or a different scale of the same reality. Or at least of a different outcome of the same reality. The mother and child are safe. But on the other side of the wall, mothers and children are slaughtered. There’s a disgusting amount of death, the cruel type. Politicians are polarising. Poems are banned. Science is on, off, in between worlds. Trust is random. Temperatures are rising. It's warm, oh so warm. Insects die. Birds die. Men die. And men arm. Other men. So they can keep killing. Because of money. Or because of fear. Or because of pride. We don’t really know, you and I. We can only assume. And suddenly, when the scene is one of multiple dimensions, it metamorphoses into something wildly different. The calm setting isn’t calm anymore. The roaring reality is what it seems and the walls are not safe. The mother and the child are nothing but minor, even minuscule fragments, of the suddenly immense scenery. With a pressing feeling I want to carefully scoop them up and place them somewhere safe. But I can’t. The physical laws of reality make that wish impossible. So what I do is to quietly whisper into their ears - all that remains is love.