I read about the murder of a little girl, age 2, who was beaten to death. There were descriptions of the guardians hurling her into a wall across the room and beating her with belts and sticks. I feel teary-eyed, sick and shaky even writing this.
There was a program on TV that had the last letters sent home by soldiers from war, read by family members. I cried along with the images of people who were reading and crying as well.
My friend is dying. She will leave behind her husband who adores her and children who need her around.
Nineteen people are killed in an explosion in Sri Lanka. Thousands killed in a cyclone in Bangladesh. Death and pain enfold us.
I have been listening to "A world lit by fire" a history of the "dark ages". The murders, the horrifying torture of "heretics" the debauchery, the love of watching people die.
It's too much! What I have documented doesn't even dent the amazing amount of pain around me.
It's amazing that we are not drowned in sorrow and tears! It's no wonder we insulates ourselves. We very well may never recover!
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