Archive for the ‘Love’ Category.

Email This Post Email This Post

Written by Adrian Tan, author of The Teenage Textbook (1988), was the guest-of-honor at a recent Nanyang Technological University (Singapore) convocation ceremony. This was his speech to the graduating class of 2008.
—–

I must say thank you to the faculty and staff of the Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and Information for inviting me to give your convocation address. It’s a wonderful honour and a privilege for me to speak here for ten minutes without fear of contradiction, defamation or retaliation. I say this as a Singaporean and more so as a husband.

My wife is a wonderful person and perfect in every way except one. She is the editor of a magazine. She corrects people for a living. She has honed her expert skills over a quarter of a century, mostly by practicing at home during conversations between her and me.

On the other hand, I am a litigator. Essentially, I spend my day telling people how wrong they are. I make my living being disagreeable.

Nevertheless, there is perfect harmony in our matrimonial home. That is because when an editor and a litigator have an argument, the one who triumphs is always the wife.

And so I want to start by giving one piece of advice to the men: when you’ve already won her heart, you don’t need to win every argument.

Marriage is considered one milestone of life. Some of you may already be married. Some of you may never be married. Some of you will be married. Some of you will enjoy the experience so much, you will be married many, many times. Good for you.

The next big milestone in your life is today: your graduation. The end of education. You’re done learning.

You’ve probably been told the big lie that “Learning is a lifelong process” and that therefore you will continue studying and taking masters’ degrees and doctorates and professorships and so on. You know the sort of people who tell you that? Teachers. Don’t you think there is some measure of conflict of interest? They are in the business of learning, after all. Where would they be without you? They need you to be repeat customers.

The good news is that they’re wrong.

The bad news is that you don’t need further education because your entire life is over. It is gone. That may come as a shock to some of you. You’re in your teens or early twenties. People may tell you that you will live to be 70, 80, 90 years old. That is your life expectancy.

I love that term: life expectancy. We all understand the term to mean the average life span of a group of people. But I’m here to talk about a bigger idea, which is what you expect from your life.

You may be very happy to know that Singapore is currently ranked as the country with the third highest life expectancy. We are behind Andorra and Japan, and tied with San Marino. It seems quite clear why people in those countries, and ours, live so long. We share one thing in common: our football teams are all hopeless. There’s very little danger of any of our citizens having their pulses raised by watching us play in the World Cup. Spectators are more likely to be lulled into a gentle and restful nap.

Singaporeans have a life expectancy of 81.8 years. Singapore men live to an average of 79.21 years, while Singapore women live more than five years longer, probably to take into account the additional time they need to spend in the bathroom.

So here you are, in your twenties, thinking that you’ll have another 40 years to go. Four decades in which to live long and prosper.

Bad news. Read the papers. There are people dropping dead when they’re 50, 40, 30 years old. Or quite possibly just after finishing their convocation. They would be very disappointed that they didn’t meet their life expectancy.

I’m here to tell you this. Forget about your life expectancy.

After all, it’s calculated based on an average. And you never, ever want to expect being average.

Revisit those expectations. You might be looking forward to working, falling in love, marrying, raising a family. You are told that, as graduates, you should expect to find a job paying so much, where your hours are so much, where your responsibilities are so much.

That is what is expected of you. And if you live up to it, it will be an awful waste.

If you expect that, you will be limiting yourself. You will be living your life according to boundaries set by average people. I have nothing against average people. But no one should aspire to be them. And you don’t need years of education by the best minds in Singapore to prepare you to be average.

What you should prepare for is mess. Life’s a mess. You are not entitled to expect anything from it. Life is not fair. Everything does not balance out in the end. Life happens, and you have no control over it. Good and bad things happen to you day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment. Your degree is a poor armour against fate.

Don’t expect anything. Erase all life expectancies. Just live. Your life is over as of today. At this point in time, you have grown as tall as you will ever be, you are physically the fittest you will ever be in your entire life and you are probably looking the best that you will ever look. This is as good as it gets. It is all downhill from here. Or up. No one knows.

What does this mean for you? It is good that your life is over.

Since your life is over, you are free. Let me tell you the many wonderful things that you can do when you are free.

The most important is this: do not work.

Work is anything that you are compelled to do. By its very nature, it is undesirable.

Work kills. The Japanese have a term “Karoshi”, which means death from overwork. That’s the most dramatic form of how work can kill. But it can also kill you in more subtle ways. If you work, then day by day, bit by bit, your soul is chipped away, disintegrating until there’s nothing left. A rock has been ground into sand and dust.

There’s a common misconception that work is necessary. You will meet people working at miserable jobs. They tell you they are “making a living”. No, they’re not. They’re dying, frittering away their fast-extinguishing lives doing things which are, at best, meaningless and, at worst, harmful.

People will tell you that work ennobles you, that work lends you a certain dignity. Work makes you free. The slogan “Arbeit macht frei” [work makes you free] was placed at the entrances to a number of Nazi concentration camps. Utter nonsense.

Do not waste the vast majority of your life doing something you hate so that you can spend the small remainder sliver of your life in modest comfort. You may never reach that end anyway.

Resist the temptation to get a job. Instead, play. Find something you enjoy doing. Do it. Over and over again. You will become good at it for two reasons: you like it, and you do it often. Soon, that will have value in itself.

I like arguing, and I love language. So, I became a litigator. I enjoy it and I would do it for free. If I didn’t do that, I would’ve been in some other type of work that still involved writing fiction – probably a sports journalist.

So what should you do? You will find your own niche. I don’t imagine you will need to look very hard. By this time in your life, you will have a very good idea of what you will want to do. In fact, I’ll go further and say the ideal situation would be that you will not be able to stop yourself pursuing your passions. By this time you should know what your obsessions are. If you enjoy showing off your knowledge and feeling superior, you might become a teacher.

Find that pursuit that will energise you, consume you, become an obsession. Each day, you must rise with a restless enthusiasm. If you don’t, you are working.

Most of you will end up in activities which involve communication. To those of you I have a second message: be wary of the truth. I’m not asking you to speak it, or write it, for there are times when it is dangerous or impossible to do those things. The truth has a great capacity to offend and injure, and you will find that the closer you are to someone, the more care you must take to disguise or even conceal the truth. Often, there is great virtue in being evasive, or equivocating. There is also great skill. Any child can blurt out the truth, without thought to the consequences. It takes great maturity to appreciate the value of silence.

In order to be wary of the truth, you must first know it. That requires great frankness to yourself. Never fool the person in the mirror.

I have told you that your life is over, that you should not work, and that you should avoid telling the truth. I now say this to you: be hated.

It’s not as easy as it sounds. Do you know anyone who hates you? Yet every great figure who has contributed to the human race has been hated, not just by one person, but often by a great many. That hatred is so strong it has caused those great figures to be shunned, abused, murdered and in one famous instance, nailed to a cross.

One does not have to be evil to be hated. In fact, it’s often the case that one is hated precisely because one is trying to do right by one’s own convictions. It is far too easy to be liked, one merely has to be accommodating and hold no strong convictions. Then one will gravitate towards the centre and settle into the average. That cannot be your role. There are a great many bad people in the world, and if you are not offending them, you must be bad yourself. Popularity is a sure sign that you are doing something wrong.

The other side of the coin is this: fall in love.

I didn’t say “be loved”. That requires too much compromise. If one changes one’s looks, personality and values, one can be loved by anyone.

Rather, I exhort you to love another human being. It may seem odd for me to tell you this. You may expect it to happen naturally, without deliberation. That is false. Modern society is anti-love. We’ve taken a microscope to everyone to bring out their flaws and shortcomings. It far easier to find a reason not to love someone, than otherwise. Rejection requires only one reason. Love requires complete acceptance. It is hard work – the only kind of work that I find palatable.

Loving someone has great benefits. There is admiration, learning, attraction and something which, for the want of a better word, we call happiness. In loving someone, we become inspired to better ourselves in every way. We learn the truth worthlessness of material things. We celebrate being human. Loving is good for the soul.

Loving someone is therefore very important, and it is also important to choose the right person. Despite popular culture, love doesn’t happen by chance, at first sight, across a crowded dance floor. It grows slowly, sinking roots first before branching and blossoming. It is not a silly weed, but a mighty tree that weathers every storm.
You will find, that when you have someone to love, that the face is less important than the brain, and the body is less important than the heart.

You will also find that it is no great tragedy if your love is not reciprocated. You are not doing it to be loved back. Its value is to inspire you.

Finally, you will find that there is no half-measure when it comes to loving someone. You either don’t, or you do with every cell in your body, completely and utterly, without reservation or apology. It consumes you, and you are reborn, all the better for it.

Don’t work. Avoid telling the truth. Be hated. Love someone.

Related Posts:

  • No Related Posts
Email This Post Email This Post

March 21, 2010

FW: The Sermon

AFTER A FEW OF THE USUAL SUNDAY EVENING HYMNS, THE CHURCH’S PASTOR SLOWLY STOOD UP, WALKED OVER TO THE PULPIT AND, BEFORE HE GAVE HIS SERMON FOR THE EVENING, HE BRIEFLY INTRODUCED A GUEST MINISTER WHO WAS IN THE SERVICE THAT EVENING.

IN THE INTRODUCTION, THE PASTOR TOLD THE CONGREGATION THAT THE GUEST MINISTER WAS ONE OF HIS DEAREST CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AND THAT HE WANTED HIM TO HAVE A FEW MOMENTS TO GREET THE CHURCH AND SHARE WHATEVER HE FELT WOULD BE APPROPRIATE FOR THE SERVICE.

WITH THAT, AN ELDERLY MAN STEPPED UP TO THE PULPIT AND BEGAN TO SPEAK.

“A FATHER, HIS SON, AND A FRIEND OF HIS SON WERE SAILING OFF THE PACIFIC COAST,” HE BEGAN.
“WHEN A FAST APPROACHING STORM BLOCKED ANY ATTEMPT TO GET BACK TO THE SHORE. THE WAVES WERE SO HIGH, THAT EVEN THOUGH THE FATHER WAS AN EXPERIENCED SAILOR, HE COULD NOT KEEP THE BOAT UPRIGHT AND THE THREE WERE SWEPT INTO THE OCEAN AS THE BOAT CAPSIZED.”

THE OLD MAN HESITATED FOR A MOMENT, MAKING EYE CONTACT WITH TWO TEENAGERS WHO WERE, FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE THE SERVICE BEGAN, LOOKING SOMEWHAT INTERESTED IN HIS STORY.

THE AGED MINISTER CONTINUED WITH HIS STORY,

“GRABBING A RESCUE LINE, THE FATHER HAD TO MAKE THE MOST EXCRUCIATING DECISION OF HIS LIFE: TO WHICH BOY WOULD HE THROW THE OTHER END OF THE LIFE LINE? HE ONLY HAD SECONDS TO MAKE THE DECISION. THE FATHER KNEW THAT HIS SON WAS A CHRISTIAN AND HE, ALSO, KNEW THAT HIS SON’S FRIEND WAS NOT. THE AGONY OF HIS DECISION COULD NOT BE MATCHED BY THE TORRENT OF WAVES.

AS THE FATHER YELLED OUT, ‘I LOVE YOU, SON!’ HE THREW OUT THE LIFE LINE TO HIS SON’S FRIEND. BY THE TIME THE FATHER HAD PULLED THE FRIEND BACK TO THE CAPSIZED BOAT, HIS SON HAD DISAPPEARED BENEATH THE RAGING SWELLS INTO THE BLACK OF NIGHT. HIS BODY WAS NEVER RECOVERED.

BY THIS TIME, THE TWO TEENAGERS WERE SITTING UP STRAIGHT IN THE PEW, ANXIOUSLY WAITING FOR THE NEXT WORDS TO COME OUT OF THE OLD MINISTER’S MOUTH.

“THE FATHER,” HE CONTINUED, “KNEW HIS SON WOULD STEP INTO ETERNITY WITH JESUS AND HE COULD NOT BEAR THE THOUGHT OF HIS SON’S FRIEND STEPPING INTO AN ETERNITY WITHOUT JESUS. THEREFORE, HE SACRIFICED HIS SON TO SAVE THE SON’S FRIEND.”

HOW GREAT IS THE LOVE OF GOD THAT HE SHOULD DO THE SAME FOR US. OUR HEAVENLY FATHER SACRIFICED HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON THAT WE COULD BE SAVED. I URGE YOU TO ACCEPT HIS OFFER TO RESCUE YOU AND TAKE A HOLD OF THE LIFE LINE HE IS THROWING OUT TO YOU IN THIS SERVICE.”

WITH THAT, THE OLD MAN TURNED AND SAT BACK DOWN IN HIS CHAIR AS SILENCE FILLED THE ROOM. THE PASTOR AGAIN WALKED SLOWLY TO THE PULPIT AND DELIVERED A BRIEF SERMON WITH AN INVITATION AT THE END. HOWEVER, NO ONE RESPONDED TO THE APPEAL.

WITHIN MINUTES AFTER THE SERVICE ENDED, THE TWO TEENAGERS WERE AT THE OLD MAN’S SIDE.

“THAT WAS A NICE STORY,” POLITELY STATED ONE OF THEM,”BUT I DON’T THINK IT WAS VERY REALISTIC FOR A FATHER TO GIVE UP HIS ONLY SON’S LIFE IN HOPES THAT THE OTHER BOY WOULD BECOME A CHRISTIAN.”

“WELL, YOU’VE GOT A POINT THERE,” THE OLD MAN REPLIED. GLANCING DOWN AT HIS WORN BIBLE. A BIG SMILE BROADENED HIS NARROW FACE HE ONCE AGAIN LOOKED UP AT THE BOYS AND SAID, “IT SURE ISN’T VERY REALISTIC, IS IT? BUT, I’M STANDING HERE TODAY TO TELL YOU THAT STORY GIVES ME A GLIMPSE OF WHAT IT MUST HAVE BEEN LIKE FOR GOD TO GIVE UP HIS SON FOR ME.

YOU SEE… I WAS THAT FATHER AND YOUR PASTOR IS MY SON’S FRIEND.”

Related Posts:

  • No Related Posts
Email This Post Email This Post
Email This Post Email This Post

March 15, 2010

FW: Giving from the Heart

The below video won first place at The Cannes Lions International Advertising Festival. It is only about a minute long, but in those short moments you will see why it won first place. It’s brief and beautiful!

http://forwardeverforward.com/vids/sister-and-brother-(cancer).flv

Related Posts:

Email This Post Email This Post

March 6, 2010

FW: Match Made In Heaven

A young couple were driving down the road one day, happily, deliriously in love and due to be married the next day. Suddenly, a large truck swerved from the oncoming lanes into their car! BOOM! And they both died.

At the Pearly Gates, the young couple confronted St. Peter. “Sir, you have to help us! We were to be married tomorrow. Is there any way we can be married in Heaven?”

“Hmmm,” replied St. Peter, “I don’t recall there ever being a marriage in Heaven. Well, let’s take it up with God and see what he says.”

So they approached God with their plea. God sat for a moment, pondering the request. Then he looked down and said, “Come back in five years and ask me again.”

Five years later, the couple approached God again, even more in love than ever and pleading that he allow their marriage. God paused for quite a while, musing over their request. Then he spoke, “Come back in five years and ask me again.”

And once again, five years later, the couple was again in the presence of God, more in love than ever and begging God’s permission for the third time to marry. This time God smiled broadly and thundered, “Yes my children, you may marry!”

Well, the wedding went off beautifully, the reception was huge, everyone thought the bride was simply breathtaking and the groom was soooo handsome, and everyone was happy! Until…

Two years later, the couple was back before God, and things were not looking so good. The couple had come to the realization almost immediately that although marriages were made in heaven, they didn’t last very long there! And, in spite of their struggles to come to terms with the situation, they had decided there simply was no alternative but to get a divorce.

Black clouds fractured by lightening rolled across the sky, and the ground shook with explosive thunder. God glared down at the tiny couple before him, his face becoming dark and angry, and he roared, “Divorce?! Impossible!!! It took us TEN years just to find a priest in Heaven! Do you have any idea how long it will take to find a LAWYER?!

Related Posts:

  • No Related Posts
Email This Post Email This Post

February 14, 2010

FW: Happy Valentine’s Day

Email This Post Email This Post

November 24, 2009

FW: Yellow Shirt


The yellow shirt had long sleeves, four extra-large pockets trimmed in black thread and snaps up the front. It was faded from years of wear, but still in decent shape. I found it in 1963 when I was home from college on Christmas break, rummaging through bags of clothes Mom intended to give away.

‘You’re not taking that old thing, are you?’ Mom said when she saw me packing the yellow shirt.. ‘I wore that when I was pregnant with your brother in 1954!’

‘It’s just the thing to wear over my clothes during art class, Mom. Thanks!’ I slipped it into my suitcase before she could object. The yellow shirt be came a part of my college wardrobe. I loved it.

After graduation, I wore the shirt the day I moved into my new apartment and on Saturday mornings when I cleaned.

The next year, I married. When I became pregnant, I wore the yellow shirt during big-belly days. I missed Mom and the rest of my family, since we were in Colorado and they were in Illinois . But, that shirt helped. I smiled, remembering that Mother had worn it when she was pregnant, 25 years earlier.

That Christmas, mindful of the warm feelings the shirt had given me, I patched one elbow, wrapped it in holiday paper and sent it to Mom. When Mom wrote to thank me for her ‘real’ gifts, she said the yellow shirt was lovely. She never mentioned it again..

The next year, my husband, daughter and I stopped at Mom and Dad’s to pick up some furniture. Days later, when we uncrated the kitchen table, I noticed something yellow taped to its bottom. The shirt!

And so the pattern was set.

On our next visit home, I secretly placed the shirt under Mom and Dad’s mattress. I don’t know how long it took for her to find it, but almost two years passed before I discovered it under the base of our living-room floor lamp. The yellow shirt was just what I needed now while refinishing furniture. The walnut stains added character.

In 1975 my husband and I divorced. With my three children, I prepared to move back to Illinois . As I packed, a deep depression overtook me. I wondered if I could make it on my own. I wondered if I would find a job. I paged through the Bible, looking for comfort. In Ephesians, I read, ‘So use every piece of God’s armor to resist the enemy whenever he attacks, and when it is all over, you will be standing up.’

I tried to picture myself wearing God’s armor, but all I saw was the stained yellow shirt. Slowly, it dawned on me. Wasn’t my mother’s love a piece of God’s armor? My courage was renewed.

Unpacking in our new home, I knew I had to get the shirt back to Mother. The next time I visited her, I tucked it in her bottom dresser drawer.

Meanwhile, I found a good job at a radio station. A year later I discovered the yellow shirt hidden in a rag bag in my cleaning closet.

Something new had been added Embroidered in bright green across the breast pocket were the words ‘I BELONG TO PAT.’

Not to be outdone, I got out my own embroidery materials and added an apostrophe and seven more letters.

Now the shirt proudly proclaimed, ‘I BELONG TO PAT’S MOTHER.’ But I didn’t stop there. I zig-zagged all the frayed seams, then had a friend mail the shirt in a fancy box to Mom from Arlington , VA. We enclosed an official looking letter from ‘The Institute for the Destitute,’ announcing that she was the recipient of an award for good deeds.

I would have given anything to see Mom’s face when she opened the box. But, of course, she never mentioned it.

Two years later, in 1978, I remarried. The day of our wedding, Harold and I put our car in a friend’s garage to avoid practical jokers. After the wedding, while my husband drove us to our honeymoon suite, I reached for a pillow in the car to rest my head. It felt lumpy. I unzipped the case and found, wrapped in wedding paper, the yellow shirt. Inside a pocket was a note: ‘Read John 14:27-29. I love you both, Mother.’

That night I paged through the Bible in a hotel room and found the verses: ‘I am leaving you with a gift: peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give isn’t fragile like the peace the world gives. So don’t be troubled or afraid. Remember what I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to you again. If you really love me, you will be very happy for me, for now I can go to the Father, who is greater than I am. I have told you these things before they happen so that when they do, you will believe in me.’

The shirt was Mother’s final gift. She had known for three months that she had terminal Lou Gehrig’s disease. Mother died the following year at age 57.

I was tempted to send the yellow shirt with her to her grave. But I’m glad I didn’t, because it is a vivid reminder of the love-filled game she and I played for 16 years. Besides, my older daughter is in college now, majoring in art. And every art student needs a baggy yellow shirt with big pockets.

Related Posts:

  • No Related Posts
Email This Post Email This Post

September 23, 2009

FW: Daddy’s Poem

Her hair was up in a pony tail,

her favorite dress tied with a bow.

Today was Daddy’s Day at school,

and she couldn’t wait to go.

~~~

But her mummy tried to tell her,

that she probably should stay home.

Why the kids might not understand,

if she went to school alone.

~~~

But she was not afraid;

she knew just what to say.

What to tell her classmates

of why he wasn’t there today.

~~~

But still her mother worried,

for her to face this day alone.

And that was why once again,

she tried to keep her daughter home.

~~~

But the little girl went to school

eager to tell them all.

About a dad she never sees

a dad who never calls.

~~~

There were daddies along the back wall,

for everyone to meet.

Children squirming impatiently,

anxious in their seats.

~~~

One by one the teacher called

a student from the class.

To introduce their daddy,

as seconds slowly passed.

~~~

At last the teacher called her name,

every child turned to stare.

Each of them was searching,

a man who wasn’t there.

~~~

‘Where’s her daddy at?’

She heard a boy call out.

‘She probably doesn’t have one,’

another student dared to shout.

~~~

And from somewhere near the back,

she heard a daddy say,

‘Looks like another deadbeat dad,

too busy to waste his day.’

~~~

The words did not offend her,

as she smiled up at her Mum.

And looked back at her teacher,

who told her to go on.

~~~

And with hands behind her back,

slowly she began to speak

And out from the mouth of a child,

came words incredibly unique.

~~~

‘My Daddy couldn’t be here,

because he lives so far away.

But I know he wishes he could be,

since this is such a special day.

~~~

And though you cannot meet him,

I wanted you to know.

All about my daddy,

and how much he loves me so.

~~~

He loved to tell me stories

he taught me to ride my bike.

He surprised me with pink roses,

and taught me to fly a kite.

~~~

We used to share fudge sundaes,

and ice cream in a cone.

And though you can not see him.

I’m not standing here alone.

~~~

‘Cause my daddy’s always with me,

even though we are apart

I know because he told me,

he’ll forever be in my heart.

~~~

With that, her little hand reached up,

and lay across her chest.

Feeling her own heartbeat,

beneath her favorite dress.

~~~

And from  somewhere in the crowd of dads,

her mother stood in tears.

Proudly watching her daughter,

who was wise beyond her years.

~~~

For she stood up for the love

of a man not in her life.

Doing what was best for her,

doing what was right.

~~~

And when she dropped her hand back down,

staring straight into the crowd.

She finished with a voice so soft,

but its message clear and loud.

~~~

‘I love my daddy very much,

he’s my shining star.

And if he could, he’d be here,

but heaven’s just too far.

~~~

You see he is a soldier

And died just this past year

When a roadside bomb hit his convoy

and taught brave men to fear.

~~~

But sometimes when I close my eyes,

it’s like he never went away.’

And then she closed her eyes,

and saw him there that day.

~~~

And to her mother’s amazement,

she witnessed with surprise.

A room full of daddies and children,

all starting to close their eyes.

~~~

Who knows what they saw before them,

who knows what they felt inside.

Perhaps for merely a second,

they saw him at her side.

~~~

‘I know you’re with me Daddy,’

to the silence she called out.

And what happened next made believers,

of those once filled with doubt.

~~~

Not one in that room could explain it,

for each of their eyes had been closed.

But there on the desk beside her,

was a fragrant long – stemmed pink rose.

CABS0B17CAD4B78HCAX7VFHZCA15TXW9CAIWR8U8CABEAQZICAOHENPUCAOZXWQXCAY85B3UCA8KNU7ECAZT6LOICAU92G0DCALZ6LEPCAFELJO0CAZ88D3UCAY4PJAECAQMADXBCA6LORZ2CATECIJC

And a child was blessed, if only for a moment,

by the love of her shining star.

And given the gift of believing,

that heaven is never too far.

Related Posts:

  • No Related Posts
Email This Post Email This Post

August 9, 2009

FW: In Memory…

IN MEMORY . . . . .

1cancer

of anyone you know who has been struck down by cancer or is still living with it.

These are the colors that represent the different cancers.

2cancer

All you are asked to do is keep this circulating.

Even if it’s to one more person.

Even if it’s only to one more person.

3caancer

A Candle Loses Nothing by Lighting Another Candle.

Dear God, I pray for the cure of cancer. Amen

Related Posts:

  • No Related Posts
Email This Post Email This Post

February 14, 2009

FW: Happy Valentine’s Day

 

“They do not love that do not show their love.”

William Shakespeare, Two Gentlemen of Verona


l17

l22

Related Posts: