An ornate and gold-edged book, of which inside are secrets even she doesn't know or understand. But tucked all through it are leaflets of paper, as if she'd rather not write in the book its self. Except on the first empty page of the book is written in exquisite, flowing penmanship her full name. ~ Lavender Cecelia Morgan.
Thursday, 03 August 2017
Today will be another day of cleaning around the glass building, I do hope we can make some headway through the debris.. I do worry for those who had duties in this once beautiful place. Will we find the bodies of those who once worked here?... Will we be able to bury them? Will we be able to make sense of the mess and reduce the rubble? To be able to show, no matter the challenge, no matter the scars, we as a people will not be defined by our painful past.. but rather choose to rebuild, make something beautiful and new in memory of the past so it may be remembered what was lost.. and to remind those that what was fought for WAS worth it all. I find it baffling I can conjure so much hope for others, yet... none for myself. I leave later this turn on a trip.. to discover myself.. what I makes me run from myself and my own happiness.. I just hope I can recover who I want to be, and I fear going alone... yet it seems the only way.
