04 September 2003
Isn't it sad how we have to grow up?
Two days ago, a memory came to me out of the blue. I was walking through Washington Square Park, looking around, taking in the greenery before class and then, I remembered how I used to believe that just with a few words, I could convince hunters not to hunt anymore. My reasoning?
"Just imagine if you were a deer. How would you feel if people shot at you?"
In my mind, I always pictured nine-year-old me standing at a podium, delivering this awe-inspiring speech to a group of contrite hunters. After my words, they would look at each other, nod solemnly, and agree never to hunt again.
Ah, the self-confidence of nine years old.
Two days ago, a memory came to me out of the blue. I was walking through Washington Square Park, looking around, taking in the greenery before class and then, I remembered how I used to believe that just with a few words, I could convince hunters not to hunt anymore. My reasoning?
"Just imagine if you were a deer. How would you feel if people shot at you?"
In my mind, I always pictured nine-year-old me standing at a podium, delivering this awe-inspiring speech to a group of contrite hunters. After my words, they would look at each other, nod solemnly, and agree never to hunt again.
Ah, the self-confidence of nine years old.