I never liked the expression ‘Curiosity Killed the Cat’, but now I understand the meaning of the catchphrase.

Not far from home, in a hidden corner, a beautiful peach tree is blooming. Just attracted by its beauty,
 my partner and I approach it, as always carrying our little cameras to be ready to capture the unexpected.
The peach tree is just two metres high, and it boils in shimmering and blooming flowers.

Suddenly, I hear the meowing of a beautiful little white-haired and blue-eyed cat that comes over to us
without any fear, while curiously looking up at the very tree that fascinates us. It seems it does not want to miss 
the show: it looks at the flowers, looks at her, looks at me, sharing its looks with complete confidence,
 adding himself to the serene contemplation. We are all perplexed and funny observers and the ones observed. 
But the cat has a great advantage over us, its small size and agility allow it, in a jump, to climb the tree up to its cup, 
and catch up on our lenses and look at Spring up close. We maintain a conversation of mewing and words for a long time. 
I’m impressed with the way it observes the flowers and us, how it talks to us. The beauty of the tree joins 
the beauty of our quiet, fast, feline friend.

Soon after, a lady of a neighbouring house turns up. She explains that the cat lives with her
 and that it spends long hours up the tree. We establish a pleasant conversation.
 Rain is back again, the sun sets, and we said goodbye and go home with several gifts: beauty,
 surprise, a possible friendship, and a cat as a friend.

Curiosity brought us to the cat.

Kisses, hugs,


Alex Rovira