We never really feel cold, because our cherished moments weave us a blanket, and we wrap ourselves in it. Perhaps we have awakened at dawn to the chirping of birds, refreshed in a dewy meadow among thousands of flowers, with the living spirits of those we once loved? With nothing to do, carefree. We did not wake up. We tell stories about how the world consists of nothing but events, and that an invisibly small part of these events belongs to us. And even this invisibly small part is a seemingly insignificant, minor part of a cherished moment. But it can cover our entire lives. The rest of the big picture, the invisible part, belongs to everyone else.
Gergő Fülöp