Once upon a time, there was a
painting spider, one of those artistic species of spider, that live in the
basements of museums and galleries. They live there alongside paintings left
and forgotten for years; certainly a suitable place to spin the most impressive
of webs. Our spider spun the best webs in the whole museum, and his house was
really spectacular. All his efforts went into looking after the web, which he
considered to be the most valuable in the world.
However, as time went on, the
museum set about reorganising its paintings, and it started making space
upstairs to put some of the basement paintings on display. Many of the basement
spiders realised what was happening, and were cautious about it, but our spider
paid it no mind:
-"Doesn't matter,"
he would say,
-"it'll just be a few
paintings."
More and more paintings were
removed from the basement, but the spider carried on reinforcing his web,
-"Where am I going to find a
better place than this?"
he would say.
That was, until early one morning
when, too quick for him to react, they took his own painting, along with the
spider and his web. The spider realised that just for not having wanted to lose
his web, he was now going to end up in the exhibition room.
In an act of strength and
decisiveness, he chose to abandon his magnificent web, the web he had worked
his whole life to build up. And it's a good job he did so, because that way he
saved himself from the insect killer they were spraying on the paintings up in
the exhibition room.
In his escape, after overcoming
many difficulties, the spider ended up in a secluded little garden, where he
found such a quiet corner that there he was able to spin an even better web,
and became a much happier spider.
Things change, and we have to
adapt to this and make the most of the new opportunities this brings; even when
that means renouncing what we already have.
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