There are times when certain things/people/situations tug at my benign emotions and hold on tight. I was watching TV, enjoying a hot mug of potent tea as the storm outside lashes on to electric poles and badly done roads. The TV flickers and I couldn't pay attention to what was on the program. The cold weather was a balm to the heat of political turmoil our country's drowning in. It seems that people all over the world love drowning, too. I half-watched a movie and a series, while attempting to get the most information from both the local and international news. When I switched the channel on to more serious things, I couldn't quite contain the outrage and sudden anger that burst forth within me. I couldn't help but stare at the images the channel was displaying. It was the kind of image that you see in an R-rated movie that goes with violence, blood, sexual scenes, vile language, and similar disturbing scenes that portray crimes against humanity and the frail of heart and stomach. First video: There was a nine year old boy who's unable to open his eyes as his face and upper body is covered with burns of different degrees. Brown, pink, black, white. He wore them all. It seemed that one hand with a surgical glove on was holding him down. Another gloved hand was pouring a clear liquid [that may just be plain water] over his face. He seemed to be crying or cringing or he could be asking for his family. I couldn't tell. The voice over was too loud, narrating how the boy was a victim of suicide bombs in his country. Second video: A crying baby covered in what seems as betadine is squalling as a helpless mother brings whatever comfort she can. The baby's arms are in casts as well as IV's. You see [b]anguish[/b] as the mother tries to take whatever hurt the baby is screaming on top of his/her lungs as a nurse projects to be caring for the baby by wiping the body with cottons of brown ointment [betadine from my vantage point]. The baby's screams are strong, fierce, and muffled by a colorful pacifier that was so out of place in the situation that you'd want to laugh and cry and rage against the caregiver's sheer stupidity of trying to soothe the baby's cries. The baby was in an immeasurable amount of pain. So was the mother who stood helplessly beside the cradle, tears streaming down her eyes, her face covered with cuts, dirt, and agony. It was unfair. For both the young boy and the baby. I had to throw whatever remained of my tea in the sink. I have forgotten about my drink, about the storm, about the half-watched TV programs, and about a state of the nation address that had both sects rallying against cruel weather that was both vicious and soothing. I was at a loss of words and I couldn't understand the emotions provoked by the two videos I saw in CNN. I knew I had to write this all down. I just had to... [i]even if I know that it is still not enough.[/i] Even if I myself don't know to what purpose I am writing that 90 second experience, I just had to put it all down. If I was moved enough with the uneasiness I felt about the wrongness of the situation, maybe other people would be, too. Then... then... [i]then... people may be moved enough to take action. Maybe then, people would realize that[/i] [b]war[/b], [i]who possesses the biggest nuclear warhead, the most dangerous, or who can kill the most[/i] [b]doesn't matter and that people - us, that nine year old boy, that baby - matter more.[/b] "The gunfire around us makes it hard to hear. But the human voice is different from other sounds. It can be heard over noises that bury everything else. Even when it's not shouting. Even when it's just a whisper. Even the lowest whisper can be heard - - over armies... when it's telling the truth." - [i]The Interpreter (2005)[/i]