The light reflects off carefully braided pearl butterflies. Slender and skilled little hands have repetatively been assembling the pearls into insects. What which is the the use of these colourful butterflies is difficult to say, they are just for decoration, I suppose.

If you start to question our lifestyle like that, it dawns that all these needs come with a price. Not a price set by necessity, by effort, or by time, the time it took to ship, sell, not to mention to create it. 29,- for what? Their eyesight? Their childhood?

The price is set by our thirst and hunger.

Surely we know about the poverty, we know about AIDS, we know about the pain, the war, the suffering, the hopelessness. We know we must recycle to take care of mama-earth, send money to charity, donate to the church. We know to sacrifice, to sacrifice to a limit which is strictly set by an unlimited greed. Boundless.

The small price we must pay, not for the deaths, but for the spilled little lives, for the decorations. The pearls. The minuscule, the petty, the insignificant little price tag says "guilt". Your guilt, her guilt, his guilt. guilt guilt guilt. We, you, them, her, he, all of us.


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