Good evening.
Tonight I've got a riddle for you.
Riddles are an essential part of the stories I find behind the mirror. The trick, though, is to find out that solving them is not what it's all about.

Anyway, here it is:
In a desert, there grows a flower. She is small and full of thorns and dust, but as you walk up to her in the chill of the desert night, you cannot imagine you have ever seen anything more beautiful in the whole world. Just like a Fata Morgana, except of course you know that it can't be one as there is no light to deceive your eyes.

Now imagine you had the power to let it rain. I know people who can do this.
At least one. Anyway, imagine you could nurture her with cool, clear water, let her grow petals lush as a jungle, let her grow tall, facing the sky without fear, let her shed her thorns and grow fresh, delicate, bright green leaves instead...

Wouldn't she be more beautiful than beauty itself? Would she be beautiful at all, without the constant need for her own strength that comes from the desert? Without having to fight the very ground she is growing on, without having the courage to meet the merciless sun every morning, every day of her life without escape? Without having to cling to the dead soil ducking under the dry desert wind?

Isn't the only thing that makes her beautiful her love for them?

There is rain in the sky. I've got to go take a shower.

Entlassung ..Aufnahme