Still not an easy lesson

Because it is necessary and essential that someone always speaks up. Whether it's about sermons, discrimination or spending, personal rights or morning lattes. It would be nice to be able to complacently heap it on the peaceful end-of-summer beach sand.

To stroke the slightly stubbled, lovable fur of the next day, even after thirty years or so, of an orphaned child. The sound of feasible plans written on staircases should be treated independently.

To listen with dignity to the golden sirens of street-corner begging, mouldy-smelling castaways, and not to behave like human beings in arm-arms instead of snarling fist-bumps. - Because someone always has to speak up. The mental consciousness as an instinctive reaction, not because of the deeper reasoning of the preacher's brainwashed speech, or the radical corruption of Being nowadays.

The bragging wounds, some say, that even Time cannot heal. The pale will to not trample the ant or the beetle just because it is much smaller than we are. We do not trample and trample the other because of surprised dismay unmeasurable in anger.

No one should wish to appear unjustly fierce. The wish of one who loves with unselfish kindness is rare. The only cliché is that to be good is the best thing - through your rainbow pores and the instincts of your soul, you doubt selfishly: why have others become gallant, vile! - And though there be a pearl on an eyelash, or a sneaky drool on someone's cheek, no one should feel unjust for having been born into the world and trying to be at home there!