Thinking again again about people ... but today, it was about those who cannot do what we are doing. What about those who don't have the freedom to have holidays, to travel, to leave their own country ... or to leave captivity? People who are held by economic, political, social reasons, or health or family restrictions?
What of those who are travelling, but not by choice? Fleeing their homeland, or fleeing some other threat?
People who are too ill or old to go where they want to go, or have to travel despite being ill or in pain?
People who know, or think they know, where they are heading; and others who have no idea where to go, only that they have to leave what is behind them?
Fragile and vulnerable people, tough and courageous people ... people like me only oh so different in their circumstances.
I don't know how to handle these thoughts. It's easier to live in a cosy bubble than to bother about other people's distresses.
But the thoughts are there. How should I respond?
Fragility, vulnerability. This butterfly has excellent camouflage markings but it was sitting in the middle of the grassy path, as fragile and vulnerable, and as visible, as anything.
And do you know what you will see when it opens its wings?