I was small. I stood in front of the television with my grandmother. It was hot and the fan was on from 10am in the mornings. Day after day and night after night the TV showed young people sitting hand in hand, singing, making poems, camping and talking about how they'd like life to be. Things happened quick and the reporter spoke like he was panicking. Then day after day and night after night there were things like blood and dead bodies and tanks. Blank fuzzing TV screens after 2am. Then at 6am it was back on and there were more tanks and broken bikes and blood and people lying on the side of the streets, mothers screaming their children's names...
Today I stood in front of the square. Big slabs of grey concrete one after another with no blood stains or torn tents or faeces and rubbish in piles in sight. Hundreds of people going about their business, exercising, walking, chatting, taking pictures, selling magazines, children chasing each other, people saying hello, ice blocks, sausages, smiling, happy people.
All that was going across my mind were the images of people that aren't here doing this. Happy smiling faces, full of hope, ready to sing another song, to inspire, live life to its fullest...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment