That’s some tale. I “walked” for miles and miles on the English coast line with this amazing couple – Moth and Ray. The reading made me straighten my back, lower my shoulders and relearn acceptance.
This couple in their 50s lost their home, family business and all income and walked into their next stage with their 8 kg each backpacks. On top of that, Moth was diagnosed with some incurable disease… . They endure, overcome, cry, despair, get up, and move on.
I read some of the reviews after I read the book. Some saw it as a diary, others as a coast guide and national geographic type of writing. Some focused on the homeliness side of the story only. Others on the iterations… It has it, indeed, a little bit of each. As with any reading, we will find there only what we have inside already…
My favourite quote from the book: “A new season had crept into me, a softer season of acceptance.”
What we did instead was to play and hang out in Adopt me.
I played the baby and Sofia played the mom. A very good mom to a very spoiled brat. My personality online is the opposite of the one in real life. I wonder what Freud would say about it… Not that I care.
I chose my outfit – urban romantic glamour, in case you need to know. I decorated my room for a budget of 100 Gamedollars.
We had ice cream and pizza with Ramsay – in this precise order. Oh, Heaven!
We spent time on the playground and by the camp fire. I only had 50 gamedollars on my game account and I spent the time of my life. Because it was time spent with my treasure.
Kids grow. So do parents. When was the last time you played with your kid?
This Easter for me is about those who put food on our table. Every day. Crisis, no crisis.
Those who work the land from dusk to dawn. Those who water the crops and harvest it. Those who get their hands dirty and foreheads sweaty. Those who deliver it and put it on the shelves, so that we only pick and choose with our manicured hands.
Those in school kitchens, restaurants and cafes who feel no pain from burns and cuts, as their remedy is love for food and people they feed.
Parents who cook for their kids. Kids who cook for their parents. Grandmas who know no sleep over simmering pots in anticipation of their visiting grandchildren.
All those who will share what they have and cut a boiled egg in 2 and share it with a hungry human or a hungry cat.
Those who are grateful for their food and kiss the hands of those who put food on table. Every day.
By the end of this week, I developed an interest in Kardashians. I know everything about Stormie. I do not keep up yet with the entire klan (k – on purpose) of Kardashians. If this lasts, however, you never know.
My hubby trusted me with his haircut. I am not yet ready to reciprocicate.
I joined the diminishing trend of the blond population, estimated to go down by 70-80 percent. We, blondes, need to remain trendy.
My succulent is blossoming. Spring is in da house:
I was raised in a family dormitory so I know about domestic violence not from the social publicity of last decade or so. I am thinking of millions who experience domestic violence in confinement and for whom work outside the home might be a/the only survival strategy. When resources are put into national and global emergencies, most vulnerable tend to remain outside the focus. Even if the numbers justify national and global responses to domestic violence.
It was only as of last week that authorities commenced to realise what confinement means for those who share a space with their abusers, after reported cases jumped by 30% in some countries, which are considered developed.
International Organisations started sounding the alarm and a number of statements followed from the Council of Europe and UN. Human rights mechanisms will have to deal with the way domestic violence was dealt with at national levels.
Some global newspapers covered the topic. Journalists do some justice to these victims by bringing the issue to light. The psychological consequences of trauma on victims and, in particular, children and elderly who suffer and witness all this, go into no economic analysis, politicians are currently preoccupied with. I once employed a victim of domestic violence and got to learn lots from this experience. For policy and decision makers these victims appear as casualties of this crisis management, as cynical as it sounds. In fairness, there are jurisdictions which manage it well. We can only hope that their experience will be shared and we will learn from it.
Crisis or no crisis, there is no truth in suffering.