jaja seine mudder

auch brieschirmchen wären hier sehr willkommen

regen bei pisswarmen fünf grad

There is a dog walking with the monks.
His name is Aloka.
He does not chant.
He does not carry banners.
He does not argue with the world.
He walks.
On his head,
a marking shaped like a heart —
as if love found him first
and decided to stay.

Behind him,
his tail curls softly into a letter
the world desperately needs to remember:
P — for peace.
He pads alongside blistered feet
and bandaged soles,
untroubled by the length of the road.
He does not ask how far.
He does not ask why.
He understands walking.

When crowds gather,
he is calm.
When the road is long,
he is patient.
When the world is loud,
he remains kind.
He teaches without teaching —
that peace does not need speeches,
that devotion can have four legs,
that gentleness is not weakness
but steadiness.

While humans debate and shout and divide,
Aloka walks on,
heart on his head,
peace in his wake.
And somehow,
without trying,
he reminds us
what we already knew
before we forgot how to walk gently
on the earth.

schubbernd rein

genau so

hip hip

possierliche feine racker

ah okay noch kleinere gibt’s bestimmt auch

könntest ja fischi vielleicht