The second Sunday in Advent. And in an Austrian school there was a Russian tea room complete with a steaming samovar and decorations made by schoolchildren, and at one point some 'Russian' carol singers. We scoffed our beetroot and cakes and slurped our tea. It was crowded and warm and jolly.
Up above, in the EU's cozy stratosphere the political propaganda factory orbits endlessly on. It resembles a giant asteroid on an unknown collision course. An object without any intelligent guidance which cannot know where it will finally impact.
Back on Earth the winter for ordinary folks, those people scurrying about below; the teachers, the children, the tram drivers, and the elderly who know what unpleasant surprises political shenanigans can bring, draws ever nearer; as it does in Moscow, Donezk, Kiev, and Bethlehem every year.
May the Lord, if there be such, let his star guide and preserve us.