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'Once upon a time, there was a mother with three children. The youngest one was only about 3 and was absolutely in love with his mother. He would spend hours on her lap looking at her lovingly, and as he looked at her, he would see her, but also beyond her. He would see a second woman, equally loving and beautiful, who would sometimes merge with his mother or look as if she were a little behind her. To the child, it did not matter. For him, both these women were his mother and this feeling of absolute oneness, when he looked at her was a perfect, indescribable bliss for the child. Until one day, some men came from the town and said they were looking for male children to take to the army school, to raise them as soldiers to protect the city. Stunned, the little child watched his mother enthusiastically offering to give her own child to the army school: him! The child could not believe his ears: how could it be, there must be something wrong...The men saw the child and said 'No, he is too young, don't you have older boys?' She did, but insisted to give this one away. The men reluctantly agreed, while the little child felt betrayed, shattered and in agony. It was a great honor to have a child in the army school, but for the little boy, it didn't mean anything. All he knew was that he would lose his mother, or that, he had been given up, betrayed. The heart of the child was totally broken. For him, the mother had died. Both mothers had died. The day they came to take him, his mother held him tight and cried to leave him. This confused the child even more. Why is she crying, when she is choosing this? She can say no. She did not. And the child just did not have the words to express himself, his confusion, his anguish. He was taken, never to return home. At the army school, there were other children, mostly older ones. The little boy was feeling sorry for them, their stories involved death of parents, abandonment, neglect. Their leaders and trainers did not abuse them, but they did not love them either. They trained them in strict discipline, to look after themselves, to fight, to chant, to cook, to recite and there was a sense of nobility and honor to what they were doing: their purpose was to defend the country. Noble as the purpose was, the leaders could not see that the children also needed love to be the true fighters of the future. When the little boy reached the age of 10, the trainees would give a demonstration of their newly acquired skills to the people of the city. His mother was there. She came alone, anxious to see him. During the demonstration, her eyes anxiously tried to meet his and he avoided them at all times. In the end, she came expectantly to tell him: 'Hello, I am your mother'. The reply was 'Which mother? I do not have a mother'. She left with a broken heart. She loved her child and this is why she came to see him. Perhaps she did not love him enough to keep him, perhaps she made a mistake, but her child not recognizing her was very tough. The child, of course, remembered her visually. But in his heart, truly, his mother had died. His heart had been broken and frozen, when