It's like each day thoughts are dripping into me like water from a leaky tap, and by night time, I've got to tip myself over and pour them all out, like the infamous little teapot. Except in my case, I don't shout for someone else to do it. I take responsibility for myself, dammit! Why can't everyone else do that?
These days I think about various preconceptions I've had since I was little about who I am. The books I read as a child, steeped in moral lessons, led me to believe that somehow I am a genuinely "nice person". They were sneaky, subversive. They drew me in to empathise with "nice" characters, and to recoil from the not-so-nice ones. I don't know if I believe any more, that such a thing as a "nice person" exists. And if it does, I am beginning to seriously doubt that I could be labelled as such.
But whatever the case may be, I am still utterly besotted with my darling wonder of a child. He's in Mozambique at the moment, but here are some pics from the YSP a couple of weeks ago. Enjoy!
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