Life can be seen in different ways,
I, however, believe it to be a library – ancient and colourful, where shelves over shelves battle themselves to reach the top of its glorious dome made out of glass.
Through the glass, light shines down , illuminating different narrow passages and ways which allow a gaze on the plenitude of books stored in the shelves.
Each book is marked with important events.
The books write down our stories without our consent and when those stories find their end, the books close and fly to one of the shelves where tiny elves find their place between the millions which have already lived.
Our stories unfold as the books remould on little desks where enchanted quills write down our adventures and wills as time flies by.