Children have interesting perspectives, don’t they?
When I saw the twin towers hit by airplanes on September 11th, 2001, I was profoundly unaffected. When the buildings fell, I didn’t understand why everyone was so upset.
As a child, I accepted it as normality for people to hate and buildings to fall. I wasn’t attached to earthly things because I assumed that the entire world was a lost, hopeless place. I had no fantasies about a happy international community living at peace; I’d peeked on my mom watching the world news enough times to know better.
I assumed in my childish mind that everyone had badness in them and that some people gave in to this badness because their mother hadn’t loved them or because someone had confused them so much they didn’t know which way was up anymore. As only a silly child would, I concluded that these people did bad things all the time to other people whether they deserved it or not. All I knew was that people hurt each other an awful lot and you’d be lucky to stay out of their way.
So when my childish eyes saw people flying airplanes into buildings, I wasn’t surprised.
I just saw more of the same.
Children have interesting perspectives.