I once had a good friend, she was autistic. Once, while visiting a rural farm, we came across a small greenhouse for flowers, and there were birds inside. My friend turned to me and said: “The birds are singing”, to which I replied: “Yes, they are singing”, after which she asked me: “Why are they singing?”. I replied: “I don’t know”. Time passed and I kept thinking about the question. I found that sometimes the birds are happy, and sometimes angry. It depended on the place, but they always sang out of Love, regardless of the circumstances. I wish you this Freedom, and myself too.
Tihomir Valchev 
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