I've been saying for a long time now that hate is a very strong word and, in fact, a very difficult emotion to maintain.
   Think about it, you have to watch this loathsome person carefully.
   Constantly interpret their actions as suspicious.
   Every unexplained disaster in your life has to be logically tied to a secret and devious plan.
   Any recognition of said person's humanity must be ignored, twisted and argued against.
I could go on but as I am essentially very lazy, I have told many people that I simply don't care enough to hate anyone.
   Then I met qaz.
    I mean, there was always this story my mother used to tell me. I was tiny but just as interested in poking my nose where it didn't belong. So, around a serene park I was chased by a goose I supposedly provoked with curiosity. This goose was in turn being chased by my nonna. And so we chased each other—or they chased me—around a park for longer than necessary.
   It was fated.
   But I guess I always keep a little naivete in me. An animal is just an animal after all. The wandering dogs bark at you because they are protecting themselves from all the people who have attacked them with rocks and sticks. That sheep didn't know you wanted to wear your laundry after you dried it. The cows thought your flowers were for everyone's dining enjoyment. The chickens were hiding from the rain, that's why they pooped all over your steps.
   That goose screams that unholy sound at 5 am because...
   That goose hisses at you from across the road because...
   That goose is known to attack people because...
   I had no reasons to excuse this seemingly nonsensical behavior. I never bothered a goose (that story above is here-say, aight), never saw anyone throwing rocks or abusing one. All I ever saw was gangs of geese picking fights.
   When it came to the point where I put myself to sleep imagining all the ways I could kill the goose screaming outside my window, I knew the time had come. Mənə qaz zehlem qaçır.
   All I have to do is walk somewhere that a goose happens to be standing, minding my own business and BAM. At least if it was a gorilla I could be, like, hey it's just posturing. No, this is a bird, being belligerent because. It already hates me for being in it's space, why can't two play at that game?
   I now both join and pick fights with geese, mumbling under my breath like a crotchety old man. I'd like to write a more flattering description of myself, but I'd be lying.
   Dəllik duşub. There isn't going to be a summit of Humans and Geese for Peace, a dialogue, nothing. I don't speak goose...or crazy for that matter.
   At least I learned being constantly and senselessly defensive only leads to hate.

Your Italian for the Day:
nonna – grandma

Your Azebaijani for the Day:
qaz - goose
Mənə qaz zehlem qaçır – I hate geese.
Dəllik duşub - It's insane.