Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but his control stops with the shore. -Lord Byron
When I went home for Christmas, I drove through the neighborhood where I grew up. They tore down my elementary school and my junior high. My Grandparents are growing old and feeble. It's daunting to think how limited my time on earth is, and that someday the very foundations of the shelters that seemed so permanent will be no more than a memory.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment