International Tree Day, Day of a World

But even when the most brilliant musicians from all over the world coincided in this hypothetical tribute, the tree, after listening to them respectfully, benevolently, would shake some of its leaves without too much enthusiasm as a courtesy applause.

The thing is that he knows like nobody else that nothing could beat the chords, trills, whispers, flutters, murmurs and sometimes howls that he gives to humans.

A tree is a world where, like rivers, the sap runs through its veins; where, as a populous city, crowds of insects, annelids and many more living beings with the most diverse walks and statures retrace its wooden streets.

That, without forgetting like occupants of skyscrapers or almost austronauts and perhaps camouflaged angels, winged beings we all know coexist in its heights, which can be birds as well as dreams.

A tree is a world, with its paradise and also its hell as well, which reaches deep into the depths of earth. And as in any decent hell, there are usually some who were not supposed to be there, but they did not know how to sufficiently defend their right to paradise, and now, there in the depths, crawling between roots and humidity continue to give their best like obedient mushrooms.

Trees talk to each other, scientists say, and they also talk to us —scientists don’t say that—, but there are many who don’t know or don’t want to listen to them.

Therefore, when they cut down a tree, they do not know or do not want to know that they are cutting down a world.