When I was just a little boy, I was always captivated by things I found beautiful.
Like the flower in my mother's bedroom. I wanted to protect that flower, I cared for it everyday. I watered it, trimmed it and made sure that it got everything it needed.
Then, one day, I fell ill, and was bedridden. I was so focused on getting better, the flower slipped my mind. I went to sleep that night, and the next day; the flower was dead.
I remember the tears flooding into my mother's chest as she embraced me, soothing me, she knew I loved that flower.
For about a week, I was very quiet and sad. I was only three years old. That was when my mother thought that it was finally time.
They had blindfolded me and taken me out of the house, the furthest I ever went outside my house was our garden, my mother carried me on her back as I wondered where our destination may be.
Then we come to a halt. She set me down on the grass, and she removed my blindfold…
Beauty.
The only word that can describe what I saw as I stood in awe on the hill overlooking our town. I saw the birds; flying high in the clear blue sky with small fluffy clouds. The animals living peacefully, the people in the town, looking so small, the capital in the distance, the green grass, I was captivated.
I believe this moment to be the root of my love for this world.
From that moment on, I had a new thing to protect with my life.