They are so tiny, leaves of dwarf birch. Tinier than nail of my pinkie.
I have to kneel down in order to see them closely.
So different, every one of them, so individual in vast group of leaves. When I look closely enough.
Some of them look like they are laughing. Some look like they carried heavy burden of grief.
Latest researchs reveal that positive attitude to life might prolong one's life as much as ten years.
I don't know if the medical fact is valid with dwarf birch leaves.
Maybe positive leaves live ten days longer than leaves with bad attitude. Until both are gone with autumn wind.
Death is the great equalizer.
But until death there's no harm in laughing. Laughing makes me more colourful, at least. Redder in cheeks. Like some leaves of dwarf birch.