Photo by: Badra Mohammed/ EPA on January 6, 2018.
Anyone that we get to see again, not knowing if they were alive or after their neighborhood or their house collapsed, counts as joyful news, or a victory. And anything else is a luxury.
Life is very simple, it doesn’t need complications, or that’s how it normally is. But our concepts have changed.
We don’t dream of graduation anymore. That stopped seven years ago, since there was no studying or teaching.
We don’t dream about getting a good job, starting a family, thinking about the future.
Now, we might dream of perhaps getting two hours of continuous sleep. Or about seeing our friends and family as we normally would.
A stream of memories runs through my head and merges with the hallucinatory shelling, turning into an endless curse. We feel relief if the shells falling down on us go quietly.
But then we feel guilty because that means they’re hitting another neighborhood, another town.