We forget that children have their own melancholy to carry, and for better or worse, they may feel it more intensely, for at that stage of life, nothing is felt halfway: the world comes rushing inside us with all its force and through every portal of our still-tender souls. It wreaks its havoc without regard for our age, before retreating just as violently. Then comes the time during which we learn to understand, to flee, to shut down, to pretend, to trick, to heal more quickly. Or to die. Still, time remains the perennial teacher. But it takes time to learn from time.
