Lately, I've been having one amazing craving to learn the French language. That and buy a camera. Which brings me to the subject of getting a job- one in which I have been looking for a while now, but to no avail. On a different note. There has been this topic on my mind lately (for a while now actually) that I have thought about, and tried to make some sort of significance out of it. Sometimes I have trouble putting my thoughts to words- the most difficult part for me is making them cogent and gramatically correct, this thought being no exception. Anyways, I'm going to try my best at explaining this thought in hopes of finding some deeper meaning through getting it out of my mind. Have you ever noticed the fragility of life and innocence in a child's being? I think back to the letters that my sisters wrote me while I was at Outdoor Ed. in fifth grade, adorned with the quintessential occasional backwards letter and lapses in logic and cogency. One might find it cute, or childish. While I do view these letters with great sentiment, I also view them as something different too. I see them as a portrait of a child's innocence. I think about those letters, and I think about the hands that wrote them- the small, child hands, attached to small fingers in which clumsily grasp a pencil and scrawl their heart across the page. I think about those hands, those little beings and ships of innocence- the last bastions of purity before the storm of knowledge and visions of reality come and taint the once pure, the once innocent. I think about my little sisters, those little children and I begin to cry. I really have no idea why my reaction is so, but it is. I think about how little and young my sisters were and where they are now. I think about the purity and innocence they inclosed with a stamp. I think about how frail and fragile their life was back then- back then when they knew nothing of reality or the world beyond of what they saw of their family and some parts of school. I think about my sisters' young faces and bright, innocent eyes. I think about how frail and fragile their life is now, regardless of age. I guess I'm somewhat of an extreme sentimentalist, but I can't really explain how I feel other than sentimental and emotional. I woke up this morning with the song, "We are Nowhere and it's Now" by Bright Eyes stuck in my head, especially the line: "I haven't been gone very long, but it feels like a life time." Which is weird because it describes how I feel currently... partly anyway. And I wondered if I could, come home.