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I would sit there for hours listening to the saddest music ears could bear, and often I would return home unable to eat, unable to even talk, with a heavy pallor descending across my young cheeks. My mother would sit next to me and place her cool hand on my forehead and say, ‘What is it? Do you feel ill?’ But what could a child say who has started to understand the pain of another?
Elly, When God Was A Rabbit (via theperksofbeingaprocrastinator)

(via theperksofbeingaprocrastinator)