As I held the skeleton in my hands I thought how beautiful it was, stark and bare, stripped of everything we as humans associate with living. This delicate structure held such a special quality I was captivated by it, there was a deep sense of enduring persistence.

Let this be the age of unlearning,

of education as enchantment,

of truth told through soil-streaked hands and stories that walk barefoot.

Feeling the weather in all seasons is a process of decision making, patience and understanding.

The marks of the summer still laid bare on my slightly deformed thumb. I discovered the limits of my body, growing more aware of just how precious our hands are, extensions of who we are.

And if we slow down just enough, we see the wonder in their eyes as they watch tadpoles wriggling in a jar or spy a whip of a tail through the grass. These moments of discovery are not just fleeting experiences; they are seeds of inspiration that bloom into lifelong passions and dreams.