Today, I have allowed a widow with little children to be put in jail. How is justice best delivered to the people, I ask. Look me in the eyes, she said. Find me amongst criminals, find me further in the dregs of this society, stop when you find me in a shanty with my little children beside me.
I, too, seemed helpless. Maybe it’s too late for I have found you there, behind bars without your children.
Writing is Hard to Love (Confessions of a Composition Junkie) - Philbert Dy’s tweet made me think a bit. See, there’s something about “loving writing.” Ten years ago, I’d probably say that Mr. Dy is right. After all, I ...
2 months ago