My youngest son just posted this. I think he disabled comments. I thought it was worth sharing.
There once was a man who lived his long days quietly and in peace. But he was alone. The paths of life had taken from him all he had known and loved. He could not change this, and so he went on with his life. Just living.
As is usually the case with someone who knows great sadness, his world looked grey and flat. His little home was just a grey little shack with no extravagant features or extra rooms. It simply functioned as a place to live. Nothing more.
Each day, his day started the same: he awoke, washed his face, ate a simple meal, and went out to the forest to find wood that he could trim down and split into firewood. While out in the forest alone, he had only his loneliness to keep him company. When he had enough wood to fill his cart, he would…
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