good day
So it has been a while
I doubt anyone reads this thing.
Perfect.
Our story children is about boy named Howe.
Even though he has reached that age many consider manhood, he is not really a man. He looks at life as a boy would look at life. He sees things, simply.
He looks at a flower and thinks not of science that describes it of the romance it connotes, but only of its beauty. He likes the way it makes him feel. He is happy when he looks at it. He is sad when it dies.
Howe is a very special boy. When he was born he was had a God given gift that nobody knew about. He was one of the most gifted musicians who has ever lived. Sitting down at a piano he could have played any song that had ever fallen upon his ear note for note. He could describe a painting flawlessly with a simple melody. He could write war in a fugue. He could write love in a sonata. But nobody knew Howe had this gift.
Howe was born with crippled hands. He couldn't ever even hold a pencil.
What then gave him worth? He had the one of the most musically genius minds ever created but nobody knew it. Nobody valued him. He had amazing potential but he had no means to demonstrate it. Nobody knew how unique he was. Howe himself didn't know how unique he was.
Howe died normal, sub-normal. Cared for his whole life by friends and family, he was constantly plagued with a feeling of uselessness. He tried to take his own life on numerous occasions. He never felt a need to apply himself at school, and lived off of the generosity and sympathy of others his whole life. Because of the complexity of his mind and the impoverished state of his surroundings, he could never relate to anyone. He never had a single friend.
Howe died alone.
This is where his story begins
I doubt anyone reads this thing.
Perfect.
Our story children is about boy named Howe.
Even though he has reached that age many consider manhood, he is not really a man. He looks at life as a boy would look at life. He sees things, simply.
He looks at a flower and thinks not of science that describes it of the romance it connotes, but only of its beauty. He likes the way it makes him feel. He is happy when he looks at it. He is sad when it dies.
Howe is a very special boy. When he was born he was had a God given gift that nobody knew about. He was one of the most gifted musicians who has ever lived. Sitting down at a piano he could have played any song that had ever fallen upon his ear note for note. He could describe a painting flawlessly with a simple melody. He could write war in a fugue. He could write love in a sonata. But nobody knew Howe had this gift.
Howe was born with crippled hands. He couldn't ever even hold a pencil.
What then gave him worth? He had the one of the most musically genius minds ever created but nobody knew it. Nobody valued him. He had amazing potential but he had no means to demonstrate it. Nobody knew how unique he was. Howe himself didn't know how unique he was.
Howe died normal, sub-normal. Cared for his whole life by friends and family, he was constantly plagued with a feeling of uselessness. He tried to take his own life on numerous occasions. He never felt a need to apply himself at school, and lived off of the generosity and sympathy of others his whole life. Because of the complexity of his mind and the impoverished state of his surroundings, he could never relate to anyone. He never had a single friend.
Howe died alone.
This is where his story begins