Winged paradise

Mankind is no longer kind, the world is no longer complete. There are so many lives on this earth that are on an equal footing with human beings, but we can't hear them.

--Inscription

I am a small bird, a very small bird.

From the day I broke out, I lived with my mother to hide and hide. I don't have a fixed home. I live in a tree hole today. I may sleep in the haystack tomorrow. I am How eager to have a warm home, even if it is just a very simple and simple nest, built on a tall tree raft, with a few weeds inside, can shelter from the rain when it rains, can keep out the cold when it is windy... That's it.

But the cruel humans, once and for all, destroyed my little dream. They cut down the trees in the woods, loaded them in the truck, and transported them by car. They watched that the car was transported. The big tree, my heart is very uncomfortable, how can humans know that they are transporting away, but the home we depend on for survival. The sharp big chainsaw saw off one tree after another, cut off my heart, saw off my dream, my heart was bleeding, my eyes were crying, I finally understood What is despair.

Listening to my mother, when she was very young, she opened her eyes every morning in the first sun, flew out of the warm nest, stood on the tree sing and sang, flying around in the lush woods. Drinking water and quenching thirst along the clear stream, but I simply don't understand what the mother said about the lush, clear what it looks like. There is a forest? What is the woods? I can only see a large piece of tree pier crying, the dazzling dark brown, telling the human evils, the circle of rings, records that this humanity invades our history. The dirty rivers are stinking, what about the little fish? Have you escaped? How can only the discarded garbage float on the surface of the water? In the past, the laps of the circle that had opened up on the water had disappeared, and only the snorting sewage was bubbling. I dare not want to look at it anymore. Is this dirty and ridiculous place really my home?

Not good, the hunter is coming again, I am desperate to fly and fly, trying to fly higher, but my wings somehow become more and more heavy, the white wings ooze bright red blood beads, slow Slowly spread, the blood stained my wings, and the wings were a lot of shocking bright colors.

I closed my eyes desperately, but I saw the place I dreamed of, the stream of clear streams, the lush trees, the delicate grass, and the blue sky. And I am fanning the white wings and flying to the paradise of this dream...