It’s time to ask who we are and who we want to be.
And remember the copybook headings we no longer memorize.
I think the first time I came across a sign that said “you break it, you bought it” was when I went with grandma to the potters. She used to buy me little miniature jars and pots and pans, which had been made for so long in the region that an amphora was still part of the set. This was my normal reward for behaving, but it wasn’t enough incentive. I liked walking around looking at everything and I was maybe five, and things would get swept from shelves by arms that weren’t entirely under my control. But that sign “You break it, you bought it” stopped me cold, with hand holding on to grandma’s skirt while she transacted her business. Because I knew how tight things were — we had broken plates riveted together, that’s how tight — I knew how much money I didn’t have in my piggy…
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