Jun 24
Miracles are all around us, and all it takes to see them, sometimes, is just looking up.
Yet, no one around me does; all they see is the traffic light ahead. Life forces them to focus on labour, on food, on rent. They don't have time for rainbows, for dogs, for children. No time for little miracles.
I'm not like Bukowski. I don't wish these dreamlessly people to expire, to vanish, or to be murdered. Instead, I focus on labour and on food and on rent and I supposed I too am slowly being murdered by it all.
Even so, every now and then, I still look up at the sky, hoping to see a miracle.
