Character: fig tree

The voices of the motherland resound incessantly in our souls. And wherever we go, they are always with us.

In my long life I have had to observe again and again this psychological pendulum that moves human nature. Every few decades, this pendulum enters a zone of wild optimism, where people see everything in a rosy light, but only until they encounter events that catapult them into their habitual state of apathy and indifference.

Mosquitoes are the sworn enemies of the human race. They killed half the people who ever walked this earth. It always amazes me that people who are scared to death of tigers, not to mention mythical vampires and zombies, forget that their worst enemy is none other than a tiny mosquito.

People quickly lose their vigilance. Engaged in politics and conflict, they are distracted from health issues, causing disease and pandemics to rage.

The water that our branches suck up is the blood of the earth, the tears of the victims, the ink of the truth that needs to be acknowledged. People, especially victors, who create annals of history with a pen in their hands, tend to erase rather than document. And we, the plants, have to collect everything untold and undesirable. Like a cat curling up on its favorite pillow, the tree wraps its roots around the remnants of truth.

Now I look at bigotry - any type - as a non-viral disease. Sneaking insidiously and ticking like a pendulum clock that never stops, this affliction strikes faster those who are part of a closed, homogenous community. Therefore, I always remind myself that it is better to stay away from all sorts of collective beliefs and beliefs.

Truth is a rhizome, an underground stem or stem of plants with side shoots. You have to dig deep to get to it, and once you dig it, treat it with respect.

People find mice and rats disgusting and hamsters and gerbils cute. Pigeons symbolize world peace, although doves are just carriers of urban contagion. Pigs are considered adorable, but wild boars are shot. People admire nutcrackers, but they can't stand crows - noisy relatives of these cute birds. Dogs evoke warm feelings, while wolves become characters in scary tales. People have a weakness for ladybugs, while they are happy to crush soldier bugs. Bees enjoy a special favor with humans, which cannot be said about wasps. Horseshoe crabs are admired, but spiders, their distant relatives, are a completely different story ... I tried to find at least some logic in all this, but in the end I gave up, realizing the futility of this lesson.

Anyone who believes that love can be reasonable has never loved.

This is what emigration and displacement do to us. When you leave your home for unknown shores, you not only live differently from before, no, some part of you dies so that the rest can begin to live again.

Just as trees are constantly communicating, competing and collaborating - both above and below the ground - so stories sprout, flow and bloom, intertwining with invisible roots.