Whispers of the Atlas

Later last night, as the world slumbered under a blanket of stars, I found myself alone with an atlas in my lap. The pages, worn and familiar, cradled the stories of countless lands and lives. I traced the contours of continents with gentle fingers, feeling the pulse of the earth beneath my touch.

In the quiet of the night, I whispered to the atlas, “Where does it hurt?” The question hung in the air, fragile and tender. To my surprise, the atlas responded, its voice a soft murmur that echoed through the stillness.

“Everywhere,” it sighed. “Everywhere, everywhere.”

I felt the weight of its sorrow, the collective pain of a world burdened by strife and suffering. Yet, in that moment of shared vulnerability, I also sensed a profound connection. The atlas and I, bound by the invisible threads of empathy and understanding, bore witness to the wounds of the world.

As the night deepened, I held the atlas close, offering silent comfort. Together, we embraced the pain, knowing that in acknowledging it, we could begin to heal. And in the darkness, a glimmer of hope flickered, a promise of a brighter dawn.

? Beatriz Esmer