When the political situation gets tricky, fables have to be told instead of blatant narratives. I think we are drifting into times of this kind. Writing for me is a kind of valve that helps me to remain mentally sane.
As you know a scorpion is not really a swimmer.
I tell you this story because it fits the times where my character as a scorpions is required.
STORY 1
Imagine a deserted shoreline in front of your eyes, dry sand, some rocks scattered along the way. The sun is usually bristling hot burning down on your skin around noon. I am sitting in the shade of one of these rocks. Just for a sudden it comes to my mind that I would like to escape and discover the coastline looking for some excitement on the other side of the river.
Luckily me, I bumped into a frog warming up his belly in the morning sun. As polite or better as hypocritical as I can possibly be, I asked him to take me over to the other side. As you know already I am not a swimmer at all.
Be it as it may, the cause why I wanted to cross the river was emigration out of curiosity. My life bored me. So, we had just arrived at half distance of our journey, the poor thing was already heavily breathing under my weight, I began to regret my escaping the situation and not fighting my inner temptation.
To stop the enterprise, what could I do? Convince my savior to return back, while he had already reached his limits? I thought just to use my sting very softly, but unfortunately I could not control myself sufficiently anymore and killed my savior the frog, and I myself, we drowned.
The current situation asks for smart strategies and tactics. My scorpion traits need control. I try my very best!
End of story 1
STORY 2
There is another story which characterizes a scorpion’s way of being too and may be more suited for the current political situation.
It happened years ago that I fell into a barrel of fresh cow milk, a deadly situation. I started padeling, more a reflex than a conscious decision. But what happened! Suddenly I felt solid grounds under my feet, a piece of solid butter had formed under my bony feet due to the rapid movements.
The lesson I learnt: Never give up!
End of story 2
