Indian…

Indian..

I am crawling in the high grass; in the background singing birds and the wind breezes between the tree branches. I don’t listen to them; I am in another world… In my mind there are stories, tales and imaginations… Above all I hear a constant humming of: to be a hero, to be a hero. I rise up out of the grass and take my plastic bow from over my shoulder. My rubber arrow is pointed at a white lumpy wall.

Uri Noy Meir

 

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