It is a sunny day by a lake. Warm. Very bright. Just a whisper of wind. Perfect.

A child has a jar in one hand, and a loop of wire in the other.  The child dips the wire into the jar, then holds it at arm’s length. A shiny film of liquid is visible on the loop. In the wind it bows out just perceptibly, trembling, a baby bird uncertain whether to take its maiden flight.

Perhaps it needs a bit of a push…

The child blows gently, the film shimmers, inflates, breaks its ties but does not burst, leaps, self-encloses, and a soap bubble is born. The bubble is exquisite, round, perfectly formed, full of colour, yet nearly transparent. The whole universe, the child included, and all of time, is reflected in its surface.

Bubbles’ lives on this Earth are very short, and this one is no exception. As the child watches it float away, it suddenly explodes, the faint firework of its passing barely visible. Very soon, nothing but the memory of it remains.

The child smiles.

It is a wonder.


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