Roots and Ruins. The love of my life—the peace that calmed my soul—was being destroyed right before my eyes. From the age of nine, I started living near a forest located on the other side of the road. The forest was not very dense, and there weren’t many people around when we first moved here. We bought a piece of land and built our home on it. Summers never felt too hot, and I grew fond of nature by the time I was fourteen. Every Sunday, I would wake up at five o’clock in the morning and go to the roof to take a walk, pacing from one side to the other. While walking, I would memorize words or study authors' dates of birth, places they were born, and books they had written. Every morning, my attention was drawn to pigeons, sparrows, and other birds. Some birds had a blue tail and a black face, but I didn’t know the names of some of the others. I often found myself admiring the beauty of God’s creation—their attractive features, soothing voices, and the sense of peace they gave me ...