Being Inspired, maybe - 80
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTnAM1-jFUzJ1SL2QZq99jpXY6g6NwnFgEB0GU3fr5mlOljZj3RSxpwBhHyG3BL7oA2zL4Kiicd0Xod5-SIGxFDbLK6A1SiD0TkwWD3kc2O9X-mlgojLy2fLjUadoXYR-XTIE-u_yuTgLb/s640/20190513_124159.jpg)
A picture paints ... well, as many words as you like. For instance: And, then, the words: It was a rather odd feeling sitting in a cafe watching the news on television and seeing a photo of my father, and the much larger image of scattered plane wreckage in the background. The accompanying voiceover was giving a brief rundown on the victims, not only my father, but also his mother, my grandmother, and my brother, Toby, who were both making a normal flight from London to Florence in the company jet. And it was even odder that, in that very moment when I should have been feeling very sad, I should feel somewhat annoyed that I had never been afforded a chance of getting similar passage. But, then, there had always been two sides to this family, and after a bitter and at times acrimonious divorce between my parents, my brother had told me in no uncertain terms that I'd picked the wrong side when I chose to go and live with my mother. It was probably true, because m