They are the only ones who trust me. I am the only one who trusts them. Three wandering climbers with aching feet and tattered fingers like mine. Three who do not belong anywhere, so they wander. Three free souls created by natural rock. During our climbs we can see them, but they just climb and don’t bother with us.

Their strength is apparent. They conquer even the hardest of climbs. They climb up and they climb down and grasp the rock between their mighty fingers and crush the ground with dynamic falls and never lose their focus. This is how they climb.

Let one forgot his motivation for climbing, they’d all weaken like trees in the rain, each with their leaves below the other. Send, send, send, climbers say when I watch. They succeed.

When I am too tired and too weak to even pull, when I am a mere speck against so many rocks, then it is I watch the climbers. When there is nothing left to conquer among these climbs. Three who travel despite distance. Three who pull and do not forget to pull. Three whose only goal is to climb and climb.