I love an ominous sky the way other people love horror movies. And we’re having a lot of them these days, a thunderstorm threatening every evening, and often arriving.
And the morning after, we wake up to a muddy pond, the colour of latte. I’m waiting for the seeds I’ve planted all around the pond to grow into trees that provide shelter, flowers and fruits to both two- and four-legged people. (Six- and no-legged are also welcome if they don’t harm the above-mentioned.)
Come to think of it, this is an analogy for the political scene. Since Wednesday I’ve been thinking nostalgically about last week, when the election results were merely ominous clouds and hope hovered just below, a silver strip. What we have now is mud; hope is five years away. My beloved country, don’t succumb to hatred and greed. Hold out for all the good thoughts and intentions that went into your making, and turn all that mud into a lush green forest.