The cat with the yarn, the gray cat that only has to worry on catching his little toy. Just look out the window and see him play unaware of the rest of the world, under a spell. I wish I could be like that cat that once existed and accompanied me through my stormy days, without rain, without going backwards. Just focused on his yarn, as if nothing else exists. The spell of the yarn is nothing he can avoid, unable to look anywhere else than his precious object. Just can’t be away from it, can’t let go even for a minute. That cat doesn’t pay attention to the cars that pass near him, the yarn has rolled into the street and he tries to catch it, until everything for the little cat disappears.
Except for his yarn, the only object he will chase forever. Go on, my little cat! Until time stops you, but I know it never will because there is no obstacle for you. He would go until the end of time, until the stars fall from the sky. I’ll miss that cat, since I gave him the yarn he spent his days near my house playing with. That’s what makes you happy and someday you’ll catch it. Sometimes I see the gray cat with the yarn in my dreams, his whitish ghost playing with the yarn in my living room at nights, I’ll never forget him. His yarn, his entire world.
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