A small wooden table made room for its guests – a few old ladies enjoying a cup of tea.
There were cookies on that table, but neither wanted to share.
Each wanted to take a bite of her own.
To taste, to experience.
Same biscuit, different worlds.
Same window, different views.
.
The small wooden table kept room for its guests.
People who wanted to be in touch, but not to share.
People who didn’t need to be right, but wanted to be fair.
Spirit of Tara 