I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes, my rage, forgetting everything, I walk by, going through office buildings and orthopedic shops, and courtyards with washing hanging from the line: underwear, towels and shirts from which slow dirty tears are falling.

Christmas in a pandemic is like living alone with no family close by. It’s lonely, sad and depressing.

But he like my mother, had certainly come to know that those who work the most do not make the most money. It was the fault of the rich, it seemed, but just how he did not know.

Nothing in the world matter more than life. You have a long road to walk and a lot of lessons to learn if you don't know that.

Written By Philippa Gregory

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