Are you with me?

Who you think made the world?
Who made the sea and this awesome dusk?
Who made the seagull? I mean, that seagull —the one who has flown herself out of the water and stayed the whole afternoon with the children in the beach eating mussels out of their hands, the one who suddenly snapped her wings open and flew away.

I know exactly what a prayer is. But it seems you don't know how to pay attention; how to be listened and blessed, how to stroll along the beach, how to fall down into the sand, how to kneel down on the sand, which is what you should have been doing all summer.

Tell me, what else should I have done for you?
Isn't your world magnificent?
Won't your soul live forever, at last?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one, wild and precious life?

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(File#: 2016-08-24 19.11.43_DxO). Paraphrasing M.Olivier's The Summer Day.
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