He reads newspaper articles to me while I prepare the supper. It, like the crosswords we do at the table, has become a daily tradition. I like it, and I believe he does too. Yesterday was a tough session. The journalist was writing about morality and how it isn’t the same across the board, that there is no absolute given as to what is right and wrong. He wrote of the 62 conflicts that are going on at this moment, involving the killing, abuse and brutalisation of innocents. He seemed to imply that in our inaction we are all responsible. I cried then. For I agree with him. We are. And yet I don’t know what to do. All those dead, killed while queuing for food. What can we do? Show us. Show me.
