Before and After
Before and After
It is Death that consoles yea, and causes our lives.
“The Death of the Poor”
Charles Baudelaire
What was a firm stone before magically transformed into two birds that immediately flew away. They had been caged in the stone for years and could finally obtain freedom. The old one immediately fell dead and got rid of all the sufferings she had had before. The young one flew away searching for a new life. But sometimes life plays bad tricks; a stone fist is always stronger than separate fingers. Was it freedom the bird got or helplessness?
They say people don’t change, they just find their inner selves they had lost or never known about. And sometimes there is a push needed, a stressor that will pull the trigger and start the process of finding the real “you”; even if the trigger is a tragedy.
When Alice was five she had a doll she had spent all her time with since birth; it had the same name, the same outlook (light brown curly hair, plump cheeks, awkwardly fat legs) and was a little fake Alice; but it was more than real to the girl. One day Alice’s mom got mad at her and tore the doll apart. It died and the whole baby’s world died with it. That’s when hatred to the one who gave Alice birth and the doll settled down in her heart. Al spent hours sewing her ruined friend together; the needle was too big for her tiny fingers and she kept pricking them, but she never gave up. Sixteen years later Alice is sitting on her bed with her little friend and a pair of scissors; her eyes are full of tears and her heart is full of anger; she is cutting the doll into pieces, hundreds of little pieces without even noticing little cuts on her fingers. Her world has just been torn apart just like years ago: death took away her mom.
When a person dies, his face becomes perfectly symmetric. Alice has never seen her mom so beautiful. She was lying peacefully in a coffin, she had obviously lost some weight (Alice was not around and there was nobody to cook for); her
It is Death that consoles yea, and causes our lives.
“The Death of the Poor”
Charles Baudelaire
What was a firm stone before magically transformed into two birds that immediately flew away. They had been caged in the stone for years and could finally obtain freedom. The old one immediately fell dead and got rid of all the sufferings she had had before. The young one flew away searching for a new life. But sometimes life plays bad tricks; a stone fist is always stronger than separate fingers. Was it freedom the bird got or helplessness?
They say people don’t change, they just find their inner selves they had lost or never known about. And sometimes there is a push needed, a stressor that will pull the trigger and start the process of finding the real “you”; even if the trigger is a tragedy.
When Alice was five she had a doll she had spent all her time with since birth; it had the same name, the same outlook (light brown curly hair, plump cheeks, awkwardly fat legs) and was a little fake Alice; but it was more than real to the girl. One day Alice’s mom got mad at her and tore the doll apart. It died and the whole baby’s world died with it. That’s when hatred to the one who gave Alice birth and the doll settled down in her heart. Al spent hours sewing her ruined friend together; the needle was too big for her tiny fingers and she kept pricking them, but she never gave up. Sixteen years later Alice is sitting on her bed with her little friend and a pair of scissors; her eyes are full of tears and her heart is full of anger; she is cutting the doll into pieces, hundreds of little pieces without even noticing little cuts on her fingers. Her world has just been torn apart just like years ago: death took away her mom.
When a person dies, his face becomes perfectly symmetric. Alice has never seen her mom so beautiful. She was lying peacefully in a coffin, she had obviously lost some weight (Alice was not around and there was nobody to cook for); her