Today’s breakfast consist of rice and a piece of bread fried in a bit of salt pork grease. At least I have my memories of grand banquets and fine foods, but this is all the children have ever known. I suppose it is best not to have anything to comp...
Ain’t nothing too serious. Even death is a joke on the old devil, if we are living for the Lord.
Listen, my child, to the voices of your ancestors. Take pride in our accomplishments; find your strength in our suffering. For WE are not just voices in the wind, WE are a living part of YOU
(The golden goose has died, my prince turned into a frog, the Kingdom is lost, everyone has turned into stone and I am locked in the tower)
With time, grief has a way of slipping down in the crevices of your heart. It never really leaves; it just makes room for more.
