I was once a village kid. Growing up in thick jungle. I had no idea what a plane looked like, what it felt like to get on a car or how amazing a high – raised building was.
I was so young when we moved to remote Musa in Oro Province. It was a beautiful place. Fresh river flowing down the mountains, green valleys where the wallabies had plenty to feast on and it all seemed like paradise. But I missed the loud noise of the city. The honking of the car horns, machines grinding at the factory, the busy streets and most importantly, going to school.
I had an old magazine that I kept under my bed so each day, I would pull it out and dance through its pages. Drowning myself in the colors, pictures and stories. These stories I read over and over, I would recite them to myself as night in the dark.
A boy and a girl fight over a book
The only book they have at home
The only book to read in school
A page is torn , the other wet
The ink has faded, its so hard to read it
But that is the only book they have
So they read as they fight
Night time approaches and they are not done reading
The girl is heart broken
She has not even started
Gathers a bamboo, lights it up to read
To finish the book before sunrise
Before the boy awakes
Before the battle begins
Please donate a book today that can go a long way.
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