You know, I can live with the desert somehow, although I'll never get really used to it at least not to having it in my backyard What is harder to live with are the pictures in my head, that just won't go away the pictures of the years of the conflicts and the big rush and the notion that I am responsible for them as well, as we all are, just because of being privileged the pictures of the masses of people shot at the borders, the people drowning in the sea and the kids starving right at the base of the fences facing the muzzles of the soldiers rifles instead of helping hands
Many say the situation just got out of control and was simply not manageable anymore Yes, it did get out of control, but it was still us who caused it all We caused the reason for them to leave their homes and it is exactly the same reason why we couldn't welcome them and why now we can barely feed the amount of people that are left ha!... farming in the wasteland still incredible that it looks here like Spain looked when I was young
I mean I always loved Spain, you know. I loved its desert-like landscape, the pale red and beige soils with the sparse dark green vegetation... It gave me kind of a wild west feeling, this magic of endless spaces where time doesn't matter But to have this landscape at home is still weird to me
Yeah I miss the snow and the glaciers the summers at the lakes and rivers with perfect temperature to swim and hang around I miss the strong colors of the alps, the intense green, blue and white the birds and the insects and much more And I will always hate the fact that I can barely step out of the house on a summer afternoon... You know that's actually why I didn't move to Spain back in the days ha and now Spain came to me funny, eh?
in the last decades before the catastrophe the youth and many more told us to act, told us to save us all and we even had the knowledge and the power to do it but as so many times in history stupidity won why ever I'll never get it and now we are sitting here in a newborn desert with a sea of blood on our hands
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