The life of an emperor penguin is either a journey or a waiting period. In the snow and ice, waiting for the comfort of the sun, waiting for the return of your partner, waiting for the arrival of the baby, waiting for the swept wind and snow, day after day, month after month. In the days when there are few gatherings and more separations, the journey from the habitat to the ocean is back and forth, taking clumsy steps, step by step, delivering food and the hope of life, the warmth of the sea and the freedom of diving are the Temporary, the cold of the ice and the prying eyes of predators are eternal. Accidentally crossing that boundary means that you will always be accompanied by this white snow.
The most painful thing is not the provocation from nature, but the hard-won efforts that go to waste: the life you conceived is swallowed up by ice and snow due to your own immaturity, and the baby waiting to be fed died due to the lack of parents and the invasion of natural enemies.
And in this long journey and waiting, I don't know when I will be buried by the wind and snow, or become the food of the natural enemy, and I don't even have time to see my family. In just a moment, I will die forever, leaving only the remnants left. The smell wafts in the wind until the voice calls, the habitat of life.
Iwanttoliveinparadise, this may be the hope of every life.
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