After reading a very unusual fantasy book.
Life is not about being a hero. Life is not about fame, adventures and valiant deeds. Nobody is ever alone no matter how lonely one feels. We are all linked in the intricate gobelin, but it’s the one that shows normal people at their everyday tasks not the one with an adventurer fighting a dragon. We talk and work and sleep and tire from too much and hunger for more and miss what’s lost and love and sing and live. There is magic in everyday, in getting along with people you never thought you will like, in surviving yet another betrayal and carrying on, in looking up from your pointless tolling and finding something worth living for. Like a morning mist shot through with rising sun. Like a smell of a herb garden at noon. Like a lover’s door opened just a crack at night. And the only heroism that matters is reaching for somebody we care for and picking them up from their knees when they fell, too tired to keep walking. Life is all about living, everyday.
