There is something beautiful in the way

that two children can sit next to each

other, shoulders touching, speaking

different languages, and not care in the

slightest. There are no boundaries in

the innocence that is being five years old

and blithe to the world and her great

divides. When these children grow up,

they will likely see each other on the street 

and nod polite greetings, perhaps holã

at best, or hi, but what does it matter, the

split has widened, the spirits have developed,

and every child's innocence, once lost, is lost

forever. The world has spun in the merry little

way she has, and time has passed, never to be

reclaimed.