We cannot complain about the day when the light diapers the shadows, when winter has that touch of just what it takes, when the nostrils tremble and when the air, despite everything, does not seem polluted.
Aircraft line up to land, I know that because I live under their road, city dwellers and students hurry to get from point A to their respective point B, City employees are already repairing the ice on the ice rink.
We hope that winter will last because if you want one, it might as well be a real one.
Looking at this morning that is getting busy, we think that things are not going so bad in our world. A highly publicized trial is now over. The murderers will go to jail. Justice has been done. I suddenly stop in my walk, I smell the air, look around me, a feeling of tired happiness in my heart. Peace may be illusory, but it is like the light of that sun that rises earlier and earlier and saws through the shade of trees; it nourishes the goodness of living.
Really, I have nothing to complain about, and I give thanks for it. I don’t know to whom, to what. I am a tiny manifestation of a sun that escapes me.