I guess I don't really want to clean the grass because I appreciate the strength of wild plants.
From the soil, the plants grow.
To the soil, those passed go.
Above the soil, we live within a time slot that we never know how short it is.
A Grade 6 boy always borrows a blue ballpen from me. One day he showed the broken clip part of the blue ballpen when he returned it to me. Few days later, I broke the clip part of a red ballpen when I used it. Another Grade 6 girl spotted this. Like student, like teacher.
My angels.
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