The sun rises; it is dawn here. In distant lands the day has already ended. Here the sun will slowly heat a frigid landscape. There, families have warmed on the beach.
Who am I to say that my dawn is my own?
I am in a kindergarten set aside for those who need special care. Let me grow slowly to feel your sunlight, Lord.
A mouse along the baseboards, what will I find that you have left?
(Letter #2,234)
