If they could speak what stories they might tell. Confidences on sunny day walks. Tears and laughter – children playing – adults booted and gloved, gossiping. Soft clouds of vapour issuing forth on a chilly afternoon. Words harsh, whispers and shouts enter alike the walls ancient ear.
Moss holding a secret spoken in confidence, last century perhaps. Don’t breath a word of this, she whispered. And the moss grew in a spiral and the wall remained still. And silent.
If walls had eyes! Peeping out through elegant moss-lashes. Watching the passing by. Fashions change. Sheep and cows have been ever thus. But we know walls don’t have eyes. Right?
On the field side, unconcerned. Indifferent sheep feed. What they say is anybodies guess! The wall has heard it all before…many times.
At the end of the day what’s the message in this whimsy post? Well I have been thinking lots about confidence, and confidences and confidentiality. All linked together. And in the end my thoughts on this subject tend to alight on two old fashioned words, honour and respect. Here is my favorite quote on the matter.
‘Respect for others begins by not ignoring their words.’
From: ‘The Torch in My Ear’
And I continue that quote thus;
Honour others by not repeating their words. Thoughtlessly.