Bonsai

This is a gentle, yet terribly sad picture.

Look:
the whole world is here — earth, tree, person, mountain.
Only everything is miniature.
A world in a pot.
Life on a reduced scale.

The person picks fruits — quietly, diligently, as if it should be so.
But in fact, this is not a garden.
This is a bonsai life — carefully trimmed, reduced, kept within limits.

The tree here is like a person:
it can grow large, strong, wide,
raise its crown to the sky…
But someone has cut its roots so it fits in this pot.

And it grows.
It lives.
It gives fruit.
Shade.
Beauty.

But… small.
Within frames.
Convenient size.
The person, in turn, is also tiny.
He does not realize he is in a vessel.
That the mountain behind him is decorative.
That his world is a model.

There is no outrage here.
There is agreement.
Acceptance.

This is a picture of people who have trimmed their dreams
so as not to interfere with life.
Of those who live enough,
but not fully.
And they smile.
And they take care.
And they don’t ask “why like this”.

This is a quiet tragedy.
And quiet beauty.

A small paradise.
With a vast sky they will never touch.

Lia