ORIGINS: The prop of the fourth character in the original series made us think of a hatched egg. And if you are wondering why all the words start with CH, it’s because one half of the broken eggshell became a hat and the other half had to make do with those two letters.
Can you guess what will hatch out of this painted egg? Don’t be silly, it won’t be a raccoon like me. I found it when I was rummaging for something to eat. But it was so pretty that it would have been a pity, so, I decided to keep it warm instead. Who knows, maybe it will turn out to be a black swan, and we will have something in common after all.
Can you guess what will hatch out of this painted egg? A sunset? There is no call for you to be so cruel. We both know that I am a tiger and I have to get my oranges and my blacks from somewhere; that I devour sunsets and nights, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have a heart. I know how to love, just like you. I have kept this egg warm, night and day, at the cost of my own colors. Don’t you see how faded they are? I already love this egg more than I love myself. I am half-starved, and you really wish a sunset would hatch out of it? Who is the heartless one here?
Can you guess what will hatch out of this painted egg? You are right, it doesn’t really matter. It could be a penguin or it could even be a snowman, but the fact that I kept it warm won’t change. Whatever it turns out to be, it will just grow up imitating me.
Can you guess what will hatch out of this painted egg? I just wish it isn’t a moon. Because I already live my life between joy and grief, and I would rather spare any child of mine that never-ending ebb and flow. And you should believe me when I tell you that there is no hug tight enough to make that pain go away, because I am a panda bear, and I know what I am talking about.
A raccoon found me when it was rummaging around in a trash can. I don’t know what he was looking for, it could have been someone else’s discarded dream or it could have been something less sentimental, like food. But he found me, and the first thing he said to me was that another word for disappointment was chagrin. That I should never let that heartless monster steal my smiles, because it wouldn’t keep them, it wouldn’t even feed on them, that monster would just throw them away. And if he had any say, I would always deserve better than that.
Today is the anniversary of the day I saw my tiger for the first time, and I want to do something nice for him. I think I will bake a cheesecake. To express my gratitude. I will adorn it with little pieces of my heart, instead of strawberries, because they look almost the same, and I adore my tiger. But don’t you breathe a word, I want it to be a surprise. Since we met, there hasn’t been a sunset he hasn’t shared with me. He was the one that taught me to keep my dreams real, always touching the horizon, instead of wishing upon faraway stars. And I want him to know that today my blood is sweeter thanks to the words he burned onto my heart.
The monkey has already said all there was to say. There is no reason for me to chime in. Why would I want to exhaust my breath, only to feel redundant and easily replaceable by the time the echoes of my last word faded away? Agreement is the easiest thing to imitate, so, why don’t you look for someone that isn’t me?
I blame the moon. It’s her fault for not making up her mind. All that ebb and flow has finally broken my panda beyond repair. He won’t hug me anymore. But it’s too soon. I still have teeth left in my mouth; I still have a few years left before I have to grow up. I still need my panda’s warmth around my childish heart. I don’t want to pull out my teeth one by one. I don’t want to build a chainsaw to cut the moon in half. Because venting my hatred at the cost of the last pieces of my childhood wouldn’t give me back what I need. Those bear hugs, that I would already have outgrown.