Abmer cross on a Hill
It was spring, on the Hill of Crosses, when a fire broke out. An open fire raged, part of the wooden crosses burned down, smoke swirled in the air, and embers glowed red against the grey of the landscape. People gathered, to bear witness to the destruction, and to protect what remained. But in the middle of the fires, the Crosses themselves were surprisingly resilient. The fires raged, but the amber crosses themselves didn’t catch; the fire instead raged around them, leaving them untouched, a reminder of the suffering of the people. It was almost as if the Crosses were protecting the people.
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