SoCS (November 14): indescribable
The indescribable sense of neverendingness. Giving evil a voice in the staccato rhythm of AK47s. Mistaken for music; mistaken for art.
Terrorism in a few moments; terror for a life-time.
Indescribable the sense of everywhereness. Every page of the atlas is soaked in children’s blood. Google Earth is the map of death.
The indescribable realization that we move on. Do we remember the Shining Path? Rwanda? IRA?
The indescribable notion of evil personified lurking in your door yard, evil with a manifesto in your classroom, evil with vengeance in your village, evil that haunts and hunts daily life.
Oh that some day, Paris will be indescribable because the AK47s will be silenced. The exploding bodies will remain whole. The atlas will not drip blood. Death will not stock google. Indescribable because evil will be describably gone.
This has taken a while. I knew that once I started, this SoCS would be empêtré dans les corps mutilés de Paris. This is a collection of random thoughts and images. Made more horrible when I think Paris is one bead in a necklace of terror that could wrap the Earth a hundred times.
© a darkened house, November 2015