Through a Pinhole

To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you – the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under a glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose. By

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

my atelier-mame - thank you.

Reblogged from yburesque  271,642 notes

t1m3l0rdh4nj1:

Having a pet is so weird. Like neither of you speak each other’s language and yet you form some strong bond by rubbing against each other and sleeping together and you might accidentally kick them in the face or step on their tail once in a while but at the end of the day you two are best buddies from entirely different species.

“What must I do, to tame you?” asked the little prince?

“You must be very patient,” replied the fox. “First you will sit down at a little distance from me – like that – in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day…”