This message nearly went unwritten, for I was already waving the white flag. Our tradition of
greeting each new year with glimmers of light was under a heavy strain. We couldn’t see them.

The world cloaked itself in black robes, heavy with deep folds, from which no fresh breeze could stir.
And the American elections and Gaza had yet to unfold.

The light we did see came from the flames flickering over the smouldering remains of what was once a home.
Baby cribs, human rights, stolen virginity, a child’s drawing made for the mother who would never wake up again.
Thousands, tens of thousands…
Genocide is what that’s called.
A horror too immense to fully behold, and thus too immense to turn away from.

And if you dare to listen, here too one can hear boots marching along the canals.

The leap year of horrors has ended. Thank God. In the rising haze, I search for hope and find a photograph:
A sun climbing coolly in the east, veiled yet regal, defying the blackened mire.
A queen, pale still, murmurs to the horizon, calling us to rise, to sing of promise.

We took time to reflect. Within the limits of our own short reach, we spoke of purpose, strengthened
by that sunrise—renewed, inspired, filled with hope.
I had almost forgotten it amidst the tsunami of despair.

But we shall not let twilight minds steal hope from our grasp. So, we roll up our sleeves.
Evolution is a stumbler, and there is much to do. Even though we, this small people, can only sizzle little drops on a scalding plate.

Courageously forward we go. In 2025 we remain devoted to our mission: helping to diminish polarity.
To weave, together with you, an indestructible tapestry of many colours.

Warm regards, Tineke, Gaitske, Annajorien, and Kim