Wednesday, 8 August 2007

S Asia Floods

It is not a day to be happy. It is a day to mourn.

The starving children in the photos look helplessly at the lens. Yet, one must feel responsible.

I look at the hunderds of old women in tears. They are in tears because no parent should have to suffer the loss of their child.

I look at the squalor that's present. The people that are dying because they are fighting for food supplies, air dropped.

I look at pictures. Taken by objective photographers. They capture the people in their misery, and we consume. We look at the pictures and are saddened. But, at the same time, safely distanced. We accept their misery and we accept our helplessness. We accept and continue consumption. They continue dying.

Little children with smiles on their faces continue drowning. Old women with wisdom etched on their hands continue mourning. Young men with fire in their hearts continue fighting. Young women with long hair across their faces continue crying. We, with warmth in our dwellings continue turning the pages of the news paper.

Die well children. Someone doesn't give a shit. And it's me.

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