And politicians meet…

Dear Diary,

The world is speechless, watching, with horror, the blood bath that’s already lasting too long.
The first image, on December 27th, was already apprehensive. Like having fallen from the sky, a handful of dozens of dying men, were laying on the street pavement, crying and bawling, after an intense Israelian raid that overwhelmed the globe. It was the image of barbarity and horror. The media announced that this was the bloodiest attack that the area had witnessed since the war of 1967, but what no one could imagine, for then, was that this was just the beginning of a real butchery. Since that day, and with increasing intensity, the televisions from all over the Earth serve all day long images of innocent dead criatures, women crying, children fighting and crowds of people all over the planet demonstrating against the massacre. And politicians meeting.

“We are all Gaza“, says the world in unison in expontaneous demonstrations and official declarations from all the nations, but the Israelian moster enjoys the blood, and cannot cease the slaughter, while the list of dead and injuries increases at high speed.  People from everywhere, even from Israelian intellectuals have lost their voices crying “Stop it“. And politicians meet.
And it seems unstoppable. The international diplomacy finds opposition from the US to just ask the Israelians to make a break (“please”). However, the US Administration, the eternal sponsor of Israel, is still recovering from the blown of the shoe and it’s not ready to feel sympaty for Palestinians. Meanwhile, the blood is the fuel for the Israelian tanks.

Mmmm… if I had a big big shoe in my hands…

But I’m also speechless, like the world. I will never understand why the easy way is always to kill and the difficult one to stop killing brothers.

I will write you again soon.

Your friend,

N.

PD: Today, the news have just arrived from the war zone. The beast decides to give a breath to its prey, a 3-hours daily breath, from 13:00h to 16:00h, and promises to study the Egyptian proposal to cease the fire…

I have lived a great deal among grown-ups. I have seen them intimately, close at hand. And that hasn’t much improved my opinion of them. (The Little Prince)

Dear Diary,

I live in the Earth, a planet among Venus and Mars. Life here is complex, perplexing and byzantine, and not easy at all to understand. Every day thousands of questions come to my mind when I observe people’s behaviour and still when I let them to explain by themselves why they function in such a way. I have spend most of my life making research on human beings, studying their habits of thinking and living, but I cannot reach to reasonable conclusions. It’s too hard for me to understand it alone.

Henceforth, I will write here the product of my anxiety and brainwork, with the hope that boys and girls will help me to make sense to all of this. Like my admired friend, the Little Prince, used to say “Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them“. I trust on you, children of the Earth, to help me to make head or tail of the meanings of life in this planet.

My first interrogation, and maybe the biggest one that has ever inhabit my mind, is why answers receive more esteem, honour and authority than questions. Why most of humans feel important when they claim to know everything while they don’t experience the same fervour towards the ability of making questions? Why a person who, in a caffe or a social gathering, says “I know this, and this and this, and, of course, this” is much more admired than another that has a big amount of stimulating, exhilarating or all the more provoking questions to express? Why life is so unfair for us, the researchers, the creators of questions?

I have to tell you bye now, but I’ll be writting you very soon.

Take care, my friend,

N.