Tale for my angels

„What if your guardian angel is a pervert?“, my witch giggles into her hot chocolate as we try to make ourselves as comfortable as the dark months allow.
With hot chocolate, vanilla scented candles, and a lot of fairylights to glow in the dark and ask for the universe to keep them safe and warm in the longest of nights.

One thing, I have always loved about wandering around in old cities and towns were the statues.
Ancient faces watching over you, waiting for you at every corner, with their faces growing out of walls and into the scenery. They capture a moment of great emotion and meaning, hoping to survive through time.

„I have always liked the thought of someone watching“, I say and my witch has trouble swallowing as she cascades into another wave of witching giggles. „No, not like that!“
„But?“
„But someone seeing shit that‘s going on, and taking notice, and caring.“
Layla roles her eyes with disappointment „That is something we all like.“

When walking through Aachen, „Karl der Große“ greets you at every corner. The hills around Monschau are protected by an unidentified angel watching. In the middle of Düsseldorf, a statue reminds of a witching fate that once took place there – there are countless more examples. We really seem to like the thought of someone watching over us, of old eyes around to be with us.
They have seen a world we never knew.
They have lived through pain we never felt.

„We want them to look at us and mean well“, I agree with my witch. „And keep us safe.“
„Too bad they can also just ignore us“, she mumbled as she poured more chocolate into her cup. „Or worse, just wait for us to step over, bend over. Smirking when the heart in the chest barely covered by the nightdress breaks apart.“

It is terrifying what people do to themselves in the hope to be kept safe, don’t you think?