It does seem to me that nothing happens by coincidence in life, but life itself (the birth almost accidental), it's all about choice all due respect to fatalistic.
Very moving the text that you have deposited in my blog, I totally think like you, the situations you described are also engraved somewhere in my memory, they question me back at times, when and why? I do not know. Unfortunately the child will one day forget what anyone says, it will be the story of a sad and ominous day of the war, an example of human barbarity, nothing more. For him there was neither victory nor defeat, just a second shock after the fall of childbirth, for him there was neither a cause nor resistance, just a quick little breath from heaven, to take life to death, to bury forever in this land which thou hast chosen by coincidence, that burned Sunday morning while I was sleeping peacefully in my bed. How not to blame But I forget.
I still remember there are over 15, the day of Christmas Eve, a little girl died accidentally, a stray bullet (not her), they had passed the information quickly to log 20 hours a vulgar anecdote. Who remembers her? What is known of his games? What would been his life? I do not know why these are individual stories that touch me most about the cycle of violence that has befallen us. Maybe, because my only way of understanding the world is selfish, I feel for this girl, not one faction against another, not an army against another, not an ideology against another, I feel his instinct of survival, her terror, the blood that flows like a tear discreet and quiet to join the flood of anonymous disappeared, I feel its calming the last moment when everything stops. But I tell myself that I join him one day in the solitude of death and we forget me too, justice will be done, oblivion is my only consolation.
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