Little Walker

A piece of sky of azure colour, behind the treetops an orange rose, a small morning Sun. The birds awaken and the smell of grass of Huron Park, New flowers will grow until our evening walk, Teddy will, with the jumps of a little lion, chase Dexa, Tobija and Nala, through the paths and the grass. And further on goes the walk through the silence of long avenues, as if we were the protagonists of an exhibition of small gardens. Teddy is the inspector of every tree, a meteorologist, a hunter of squirrels, a polite participant in traffic, greeting children and kind old people to whom he smiles. And everything is so gentle, peaceful and dreamy — as if the evening is telling us how the small gardens, in the closeness of the earth, in the language of plants, string into long sentences, along long avenues and streets of another spring, their songs and stories. Text Branka L