This morning I woke to what I believe is a horrendous crime. A book tossed outside amongst the debris.
How could this be? Who put this here? A child I assume.
I sit shocked at how my parenting has dwindled. How did my world get so busy that I have obviously not expressed clearly enough to one of my children how precious books are, and pass on the knowledge that these forms of art are someone’s tireless effort creating something to offer back to the world? Instead this work of art has been left abandoned & outcast as rubble & mistaken as of no importance.