The last sun rays are piercing thick cold air, making fallen leaves flame in the sunset blaze. The sky’s azure edge shines through the clouds and mirrors in the glittering, tangibly flat river glass.
Blue mountains rise on the horizon with a lonely shepherd’s fire glowing at foothills. The moon is standing still above the peaks like a pink ball thrown high in a kids game.
What they speak about?
“Do you know how to be shepherds of Being? Do you know how to care, not manage, keep, not own?”
The sky is growing darker with every minute. Among the clouds, a star is lit.
