When I was 9 years old, my mom and I were standing outside by a concession stand and I caught myself staring at this woman, studying her. She was maybe 40 years old but looked 60, caved in cheeks, wearing a spaghetti strap dirty shirt, no teeth, coughing constantly with a cigarette in her hand. I mentioned before, that…
Tragedy is only the beginning
Tragedy looks different for everyone. But how tragedy shapes you is the art of living.