Grief of Loss Under the shadows of trees, in a nearly dilapidated temple, in the middle of a dark forest, left virgin for almost three decades, so dense that even sunlight doesn't reach the ground, in the bitterly cold night of mid-January, facing the wind, cold enough to freeze the blood in veins, sat the little boy whose 12 years old ears couldn't feel the chill anymore, nor did his eyes see the night. He kept sitting there. Tears of grief, obviously frozen and dry, wouldn't come anymore. For the first time, his eyes were emptied not his heart. He wanted to cry out more, but tears wouldn't come out. He could feel his heart become more and more similar to the temple he could see; dilapidated and ruined, to which no one would set a foot anymore. Even his favorite and only uncle, the moon, left him on his own that day. His mother, as he remembered, always used to tell him that his father had gone to meet his uncle, and he would come back after fetching stars for his dear...