Fragility

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A field of glass, just opening, lily buds with little teenagers inside. The potential is just hinted. The buds are just a foretaste of things to come. Puberty is a fragile time of change. The fragility of this potential is moving. Not all the buds open.
Recently in our community we lost two teenagers. This sad experience deeply affected me. As a mother myself, it is easy to put myself in the place of the parents. I also remember being a teenager. It is a turbulent time.

Balance is hard to sustain. So many things pull in an opposite direction. We only have fragile moments.

Another reminder of fragility is a book I read recently .The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguro is in some way closest to Don Quixote.
This is a tale of fragility both of people’s memories and of civilization itself. He uses mythical language and conveys a mythical wisdom.
It is a multi-layered and beautiful book. It takes only a little while to get used to his way of talking in this book. The ever present fog of forgetfulness is such a powerful symbol. It is timeless just like the most excellent myths and Shakespeare’s best plays. Without this fog of illusion no civilized values can be promoted to anyone, as they would remember too well how it all started.
In the same time a personal, touching story of an aging couple, love, humanity and a story about collective fog of forgetfulness- politics of severely controlled information.

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Fragility