The Empty Nest

I have a tenant in my backyard. A sparrow, a female sparrow that thought my backyard could be a good place to call “home” and dedicated weeks to build a nest above the spotlight. At the beginning she was fearful of my presence, flying away as soon as I opened the door, but as days passed by, we acquainted.

I followed the idyllic journey of life since laying the eggs, to the endless days of incubation until the hatching of the newborns, cute plucked little birds that filled my backyard with a melodious cacophony of sings exteriorizing their eagerness for living.

One day I came back home after work and the backyard was dead quiet. Curious, I peeked into the nest and found it empty. They finally flew away from the nest, I thought, and when I was about to get inside happy with the news, I looked down and found a little sparrow lying dead, eyes closed, with his small wings that failed him extended over the hard concrete floor and his peak open through which escaped his last breath of life.

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The Eternal Tourist

In my coming and going through life I have meet people, that unlike me, can travel unconcerned of schemes, places or schedules, they just go free as birds. When they tell me their stories I feel a combination of amazement and envy, because sometimes I wish I could be as carefree and leave everything behind like they do.

One day, some friends introduced me to Phillip, a South African brother that was in his one-year tour through the world. I had the opportunity to hear his stories and adventures that astonished me deeply. But what was more amazing for me was his life philosophy. He told me he started traveling the world with a plan of working six straight years to save money and then taking an entire year off for traveling. As he did it, the cycle became shorter until eventually it became his way of life.

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The Movie of your Life

Have you ever been in a difficult situation, in the verge of a decision, in which you take an option but a faint voice in your head tells you otherwise and you ignore it?

All of us know the outcome of this, the feeling of regret of ignoring that inner voice that somehow knew the outcome and tried to dissuade us of our choice. Some people grant this divination powers to intuition, a sixth sense, divine intervention, you name it… but what if I tell you that those voices are our own? Produced by a version of ourselves in a different circumstance, a different place… deprived of space and time… would you believe me?

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