We should celebrate that a child died a child. That one escaped.
We lock them in our schools, we teach them our stupid taboos, we catch them in our wars and they can´t resist , they have no armour and so we kill them, we massacre the innocents.
The world is for children. The real world ¡ They climb trees and roll on the grass, they´re close to the ants, as free as the birds, like animals, they´re not ashamed, they know what is important, a mouse is born or a leaf drops on a pond, if the world could be made of children...
Margaret Rumer Godden
The River, Jean Renoir
