There are stories that are true, in which each individual's tale is unique and tragic.And the worst tragedy is that we've heard it all before...and we cannot allow ourselves to feel it too deeply.We build a shell around it..this is how we walk ,talk and function...day in and day out...immune to other's pain and loss...which,if it were to touch us..would cripple us...but,for the most..we do not let it...we cannot risk it. Tonight,as you eat...reflect if you can...there are children starving in numbers large enough to numb the mind...you might find it uncomfortable..or you might not,but still...you will eat. Women..men...old and young..there are so many of them and so many of their stories are tragedies with griefs too deep to be contained...but here and there tiny joys...beacons of hope can be snatched from the darkness...enabaling us to maintain our own personal impressions of sanity.
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"No man"proclaimed ..well..someone..."is an island"and he was wrong. If we were not islands,we would be lost..drowned in each others tragedies. we are insluated for the sadness of others by our very "island" nature and the repetitive shape and form of these stories...for every story begins and end like this....there was a human being who was born...lived...and died. the rest are just details..which we may fill in with our own experiences. Infact...to wax a bit eloquent and a bit off the point (as if there is a point to the whole thing )...There is nothing more unoriginal than life...like snowflakes..each life is unique in detail...but they'er still all the same...
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sorry...still havent reached that place where i can make my point....but will do..in the meant time...any comments ?
