I have been thinking these days… how busy our lives are when we grow up. And how free we felt when we were young. Free to love people.
I look at people on the street, people with families, people with responsibilities, people who are ill. Do they have time to love somebody? I feel like they don’t. They think of the next diaper, the next salary, the next doctor. But how about showing affection, thinking deeply about another person?
Is it me or we become more selfish as we grow up?
Or is it precisely this lack of time that makes us appreciate even more the people who are standing next to us? Those who understand and are patient. Do we not love them silently, unconditionally, infinitely, just because we have only a small opening to do so?