Tuesday, 1 April 2008

dear diary 11 dec 1993

The birds fly in at twilight, hundreds of them, and land on some pre-determined branch of this tree in front of my window.

There is no pushing, no fighting. Each one knows its place, goes there directly in one great swoop, and rests for the night. They seem to know that if they live through the next day, their place on the branch will be waiting for them,. And that is enough to let them rest through the night, and soar again in the morning.

There's so much man can learn from nature, and he does, but forgets; each generation has to rediscover and relish nature's wisdom for itself.

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