The eyes of small children reflect the bright light,
They play with the sand as if all of the world's existence was right there ready to be explored by their tiny fingers.
The thin extremities of that gigantic tree dance with the swinging wind,
Strong grounded tree gracefully moving with such freedom as if drugged by the presence of happiness.
Benches on the edge, ready for those loners, who beautifully and enviously admire the peace of nature.
Birds effortlessly glide through that empty space between us and the clouds.
An old man takes a picture.
It will sit on his living room,
Right beside the chair his late wife would rest every afternoon,
Telling him stories he only appreciates now they are gone.
I admire the threatening outside world, safely locked behind the suffocating windows.
It's time to go out.