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There was an attack

Stories and News No. 1036

This is the word, but it’s not enough, in spite of the normal consequences within images and sounds of screams and smoke everywhere, thanks to a good monitor with fine resolution.
‘There was an attack’.

This is the incipit, but it’s not enough too, although now well-known in the mere story as in the more or less rite comments.
‘There was an attack and there were dead’.
The latter is the fundamental, further addition, for the sake of completeness, but also not to miss the driving, however cynical, element, that is the tragic count of the disappeared, at the expense of the negligible survivors.

Well, did you ever think about that?
The number of deceased is always more relevant, rather than the loving ones who will inherit discomfort and memories, who, according to simple logic, should be infinitely more.
Nevertheless, we should have some interest for tomorrow and the next day people, for the protagonists outside the newspaper, who don’t make a news, except for a bomb.
Anyway, ‘there was an attack’ and ‘there have been many dead and injured’, finishing the whole picture and making clear the drawing, causing public reaction before the human madness of such mad humanity, now interchangeable, inseparable and acclaimed synonyms.
However, I could also reveal the terrible number, a scary one.
To bring extra shock, maybe I could describe the ripped off lives one by one, murmuring slowly.
Three hundred... up to the wounded, the witnessed meat, the eyes from the destroyed horizon.
I could talk about sold weapons and political corruption.
Great powers and great interests.
USA and Europe, washing hands and consciousness with fallen water.
‘An attack’, yes, but it has already happened.
‘There was an attack’, but it was predictable.
‘There was an attack’ and ‘there were lots of dead and wounded’, but that's how it works.
Otherwise, how to ignore it?
Well, did you even think about this?
We’re getting used to mass massacres, paying more attention when the number of victims is inversely proportional to the mystery of the motive, and the TV share goes up together with advertising revenues before the detective anchorman dealing with the family mystery.
However, despite ‘there was an attack’ where more than three hundred died, and only a few days later thousands showed their courage and dignity for the personal sorrow, it’s not a story able to touch our empathy.
How much does the latter worth, then, if hell on earth showed its face in Paris as in London?
What fierce mistake is concealed in our conscience to allow us such inhuman distinction?
Well, the day the innocent blood of Somalia on the global screen will be the same colour to us than every part of this illusory free country, it will mean that we’ll be on the right path to win this incumbent, world civil war against ourselves.

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