Swinging babies

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

I'm touring the countryside of a country. I don't know which one. It's not even really a countryside; there are lots of developed buildings, houses, mostly on an incline. Trees are lined up in between, and also inside the glass houses, keeping up with the latest green housing trends.

Afar I can see a huge platform high up in the air, supported by only a tree pole. It's an isolated structure on which stands what looks like an open roofed warehouse.

It's an orphanage.

From an area where babies are scarce, these orphans are precious. The open roof allows their cries to be heard all over the town, especially during the dark hours of the night. But the path towards them is daring. The only way to the platform is by swinging oneself from the nearby mountain side. Then to swing back, this time with a baby in tow. The babies are normally happy for the adventure, but not everyone makes it to the other side. When that happens, the whole town mourns.

It is a risk only the truly determined will go through, an admirable feat after which the adopted children growing up will never doubt that they were wanted in the first place.

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