The seeker

One day a seeker felt he had to go to the town of Kammir.

He had learned to follow those feelings coming from an unknown location itself, so He dropped everything and left. After two days of walking the dusty roads to kammir, He saw the town in the distance. 

Just before reaching the village, a hill to the right of the trail was so striking for him. Was covered in a wonderful green and had a lot of trees, birds and beautiful flowers. The completely surrounding a kind of small polished wooden fence ... A bronze door inviting him to enter.
Suddenly he felt that he forgot the town and succumbed to the temptation to rest for a moment there.

He started walking slowly among the white stones that were distributed as at random from among the trees.
He saw all with his eyes very open, so He discovered on one of the stones, One registration ... "Abdeul Tare, lived 8 years, 6 months, 2 weeks and 3 days." He was a bit startled to realize that this stone was not merely a rock. It was a tombstone, was sorry to think that a child so young was buried there ...

Looking around, the man realized that the stone next door, also had an inscription saying "Llamar Kalib, lived 5 years, 8 months and 3 weeks." The seeker felt a terrible shock.
This beautiful place was a cemetery and every stone a tombstone. All tombstones were similar: a name and the exact lifetime of the deceased, but it contacted the horror, was to prove that the longest lived, barely exceeded 11 years.

With a terrible pain, he sat down and began to cry. The caretaker of the cemetery saw him for a while in silence and then asked him if he cried for a family member.

- There is no family - said the seeker - What's with this town?, What terrible thing is in this town? Why so many dead children buried in this place? What is the horrible curse on these people, which has forced them to build a cemetery for kids?

The old man smiled and said, "Can you calm down, there isn't such a curse, what happens is that here is an old habit. He said: when a child turns 15, their parents give him a book such as this that I have here, hanging from the neck, and a tradition among us who, from there, every time you enjoy something intensely, open book and write on it: on the left that was enjoyed so ... right, how long you enjoy it.

"He met his girlfriend and fell in love with her? How long was this huge passion and pleasure to meet her? ... A week?, Two?, "Three weeks and a half? ... And then ... the excitement of the first kiss, how long did it take?," The minute and a half of a kiss ?, "Two days?," A week? ... what about the pregnancy or birth of first child? ... what about the wedding of friends ...?, what the most desired travel ...?, what about the meeting with brother who returns from a distant country ...? How long you was happy of these situations? ... hours?, "days? ...

So we write in the book the time we enjoy these moments, when someone dies, it is our custom to open the book and add the time of the enjoyed, to write on his grave. Because that is, for us, the only real time we lived.

This story is not mine but I love it, I don't know who is the autor but this story is so good! the first time I read the story was fantastic and now too. I was searching this story for a long time because I forgot the name of story. But I remembered it a few days ago and I searched it. I had make changes in the story because it is a translation, it isn't in english, so to give meaning to story I had make changes. I hope you like it, the story is  wonderful and make you think about your life and how happy you are.