It is over.
The goal has been achieved – we have finally got to Mexico. I have landed on the tree, which my ancestors used as their home. We have travelled more than 2000 miles to hibernate in the warm forests. What did I expect from this budding trip? Well, definitely not what I saw. I imagined that butterflies of past generations flew over the unusually beautiful carpets woven from hundreds of various colored patches (typically green). They saw incredible patterns of rivers and lakes, mountain peaks and only rarely human dwellings. When I was a green-and-white-striped caterpillar I dreamt of Mexico as a blissful paradise, a fertile land, where there are no cold and no rain. I ate a lot of milkweed, so that predators could feel sick after biting me. After being a pupa, I felt so excited about everything around me and couldn’t wait for my wings to stiffen, get dry before I could fly away. When my wingspan reached nearly 12 centimeters, I began to train my wings in order to prepare myself for a great journey. I knew not only the way to go, but also that none of us makes the journey more than once. No one completes the entire round trip, only the next generation can return to Canada. But this does not upset me at all. It grieved me that instead of the greenery of the woodland and the blue of the rivers, I saw the scorched earth, the greyness and many parched lakes. Instead of mountain peaks – factory pipes, instead of rivers – long trenches. The world turned out to be dull, but at the same time incredibly dynamic, disharmonious and bustling. When I sluggishly landed on a branch, a feeling of dissatisfaction washed all over me. I was very impressed by the terrible oil spots on the water and the meeting with a pelican who was stuck in one of these traps. Dozens of dead fish have surfaced at along the banks of one small lake we flew above. People could have prevented this, however, they have contributed to!
Is it all over?
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