I was so little. So young. I couldn’t even understand what I was going to be.
I was trying to feel, to see, to grow roots.
Water entered my pores like a sacred offering — I drank it as if I had been thirsty for centuries.
But water wasn’t enough.
To grow, I needed to noutrish myself.
The earth pressed gently over me — not a burden, but a lesson.
The soil taught me to hold on, to anchor deep, to listen to the weight of life.
Nutrients came. Light followed. I began to stretch upward.
Birds nested in my arms.
Monkeys danced in my branches, chaotic and wild.
Lions leaned into my bark, silent and strong.
We all lived together, breathing in harmony.
But harmony isn’t guaranteed.
I remember a warm liquid, acidic and wrong, poured at my roots.
“I drank too much, I need to pee.”
“I’m going to be sick.”
Nobody asked me first.
Then came the chainsaws.
“We’ll build a shopping mall here. No regrets.”
The hum of machines swallowed the sound of birds.
Flames arrived, too hot to breathe.
Smoke climbed up my trunk.
And then — silence.
No lions. No monkeys. No wind through the leaves.
Just the memory of what once was.
Still, I waited.
Because hope, like roots, can go deep even in scorched earth.
Then I heard her.
A girl.
She was traveling, just passing through.
She stopped and whispered,
“What happened here? I wasn’t expecting this… I was just traveling and…”
The beauty of a foreign enchanted by what she was discovering.
She didn’t walk away.
She stayed.
She planted seeds — not only in the soil, but in herself.
She learned about the Sustainable Development Goals, and made them her guide.
For Goal 13 (Climate Action), she chose low-impact transport — buses, bikes, her own two feet. She shared knowledge and listened to stories.
For Goal 15 (Life on Land), she joined local reforestation efforts, respected ecosystems, and volunteered to care for what was left.
For Goal 12 (Responsible Consumption), she refused single-use plastics, supported local makers, and traveled light — in luggage and in footprint. Hostels were also welcome. To meet new people, new ways of thinking and changing the world.
She didn’t just see destruction.
She chose to live differently.
She knew that to travel is not only to witness the world —
but to care for it.
And slowly, the silence began to shift.
A bird returned.
Then two.
She smiled.
Because in every act of care,
she was not only moving through the world —
she was helping it grow again.
