Leo Tolstoy once wrote, “From the
age of 5 to the man I am now, is but a step; from birth to the age of 5 is an appalling
distance.” Every childhood can be said to be plagued by the length it takes to
cross such appalling distances. Every adult can remember some point in time in
their childhood where they first experienced danger, peril, a closing window or
a grip suddenly slipping loose of its object, sending them into what might have
seem the longest free-fall, the true lesson and introductory of physics.
When a child receives love, a child receives
all potential this world has to offer; when denied that love, they become
another species manoeuvring off instinct to simply survive. Once survival
becomes a child number one instinct, a return to a state of compassion or want
of compassion is almost nil or an improbability; orphaned children usually don’t
take to crying because they know it’s no point, it’s a waste of energy, and as
for skills, they are honed over a long stretch of loneliness in a world that
has taken from this, for some unfathomable reason, a family, so what they never
find is a reason to care for anyone else beyond what they need and who they
need to scuttle, to survive.
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