Yesterday, my kids and I went to the mountains.
To a place where there are no cell signals, where the wind from the mountain tops replaces the air conditioning, and the chirping of crickets and the gurgling of water replace background music.
We found a small mountain lake. Crystal clear water, cliffs, and stones. We jumped from the rocks into the deep spots, into the coves, laughed, and looked at the sky, which seems closer here than in the city.
But now for the unpleasant part.
On the shore, in this clean and magical place: cigarette butts, pieces of plastic bags, plastic bottles.
Like the autograph of an idiot who doesn’t care that, in the future, after people like him, such places may not exist.
Each such place is like an oasis in a concrete desert.
Just don’t litter, don’t destroy, and don’t turn the forest into a dump or the river into a drainage ditch.
We talk a lot about the future. About children. So here it is, right in front of us. The water you can still swim in. The air you can still breathe.
Let’s at least preserve this.
For our future and for the future of our children. For those who will come here after us and won’t want to see trash there.
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