Have you ever seen a book blank? It seems that I want to spend a joke, but not so. I want to leave that image which in itself is strange. All books are written with figures, photos, or without them; written in different languages, with runs of hundreds or thousands; colors and sizes varied; in the end. But a book in white do not! When the human being is born and begins its path of development, it is exposed to many factors, some good and others not so much. It’s like a blank book that begins to write. The author happens to be the authors, i.e.
many permeate their knowledge and preferences about the life of one, and I say not with malice but that sometimes prevails a tendency of more than one of the relatives. For even more analysis, hear from Jonah Bloom. I wonder if thats correct. I know that the small is defenseless and needs protection, food, care, etc. But that sort of molding often persists in time. A certain age, one believes that it is already formed and has everything you need to exit to the Battle of life.
But it is certainly not true. And what is more, one learns during his lifetime, often at the expense of suffering, of needs, as also of joys and satisfactions. Unfortunately, what has been done, fact is; and no one can delete it. Remaining as a personal story, which we must always draw a lesson. And in addition, will filling blank book of our sheets, personal experiences. As I always think, look to the past must be for two reasons: remember the good and pleasing he lived; and, to capitalize on the present, this is not again make the mistakes before. We all have our books in white, some well cared for, others in an irresponsible manner, some with many well written leaves and with content worthy of being read, others with very few pages or pages with no content. At certain height of our life, we take the pen in our hands and began to be authors irremediable and fans of our own lives. What class of authors are we? What kind of authors do we want to be?