I continue to look at a window, with glass beaded with rain.
Outside a dark, threatening sky.
Branches of trees that dance a whirling dance, following the symphony played by the sirocco.
The stormy air that contrasts with the calm of my room.
Here where a warmth envelops everything like a blanket.
The mind runs to those who lack it.
To whom the elementary fury has taken everything away.
To those who crave a simple blanket, to cling on for a bit of heat and a semblance of security.
It tighten the heart imagining, eyes full of pain, of desperation.
Then I would like to hug everyone to give some of my warmth.
To bring some hope.
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