They think we just groom each other for fleas and fight over the ripest fruits. They look down on us, locked away in their angular stone boxes, proud of their machines and dead signs on white paper. But today… today I looked where they look every day, noticing nothing but their own reflection.
I looked into this cup. There, at the very bottom, among the swirling tea leaves, time slowed its pace. The dark moisture pushed apart the edges of the clay, turning into a bottomless well. I saw how stars are born and die in this little puddle. Each tea leaf is a world.
One falls to the bottom—and a civilization fades into oblivion. Another rises to the warmth of the surface—and life blossoms.