I remember a time when I used to make kites and slingshots.

I would fly those kites on windy days, and hunt birds with my slingshots.

I would run shirtless and barefoot under the beating sun.

Somewhere, that boy is still running.

Somewhere, he is still innocent and inundated with the joys of flying kites

and hunting birds with his slingshots.

That boy will never die.

He will never stop loving and living the life he knows.

It is the only life he will ever know.

The sun, running, the hot earth beneath his bare feet, the wind.

He feels no fear, no sorrow, no pain.

He deserves this life.

He is fulfilled.

He is thankful.

He is invincible.

The ground beneath him isn't harsh enough to damage his bare feet.

The sun isn't strong enough to ruin his beautiful complexion,

nor is the wind powerful enough to weather his skin.

He will never stop running.

He will never stop hunting.

He will never stop flying kites.