Have you ever been robbed? I have.

We are all robbed at some point in our lives. We lose trust, we lose faith in a future that was supposed to be so safe.

You sweet little boy. I’m so sorry for what happened to you. While I am so heavy-hearted at what befell you, I am grateful for the circumstances that led me and several others to be there and do our best to intervene.

It’s a drizzly day in the bustling city named Boston. While buzzing down Eighth street I feel a sudden sadness as I approach an underpass. I notice numerous people living their daily lives. They have nothing on their calendars, for they have none.

Broken plates. The sound of shattered shards of fragile china landing on the distressed wooden table facing the mosaic artist. They used to be fine china plates dressed in a beautiful floral pattern in shades of grey and black. Some fall into the depressions created by pieces of glass piercing the once-smooth surface. They emit a muffled sound, some even landing upright, creating another pit in the wood.