I read this column a couple of weeks ago, and then, as now, it struck me as a beautiful piece of writing on a horrendous topic, with a horrible protagonist. Bolted Down - The Monthly Daily I have thought of it many times since my first reading. There's something so uncomfortable about the honest portrayal of a vile man that ends in vulnerability. A young boy writing a poem - is it autobiographical? Already in the poetry there's a sense of justification and permission: a hint that he knew that his life would be a dispensation of of 'teasing and taunting'. At 13 it is remarkable insight, yet surely he could have changed...? I have been wondering lately how much of our lives are fate and how much are choice and cause. Beyond determining the hour I get out of bed and what I eat for breakfast, do I determine my job, or my skills, or my relationships? Or do they determine me? Was I doomed to live this life from a young age? Or can I still make a change? A song to suit the mood To come back to Bolt: he reminds me of a man I used to know, who may have had an impact on who I am now, that was very black & white (pun?). There was his way, which was always right, and then another, which he would instantly dismiss; no time or inclination to understand the opposing argument, or even appreciate the greys. I am thankful that man never had a platform, and I cannot understand why Bolt does. But then, I suppose we all need a voice of reason. Bolt is the voice of reason for those with no imagination, no grey, and no empathy. They can justify their viewpoint because he shares it .I believe that unless we are strong enough to stand up to the fear that the poetic Bolt wrote about - the fear of defending the bullied - then we are all just as bad as him. In this time, with the world in such a state, it's not enough to do any less.