One can imagine the fear,

and be thankful

that what the mind can bring life to

is but a feeble echo

of reality, the thing that

happened to those

that died,

those that had to face their death

without a way to life,

without a way to resist anymore.

 And to those that calmly stood outside

the locked door,

to them this was just part of their daily work,

dreary except to those who burned

with the faith of the believer. 

They were full of the joy that

the worst of us feel in places like these.

The rest were wondering

what all workers bored of their work do:

how would the days football matches go?

What they would eat in the evening,

what they would read before sleep would come,

could they afford a new child with the current income?

The everyday reality behind horror.

As people died, others waited anxiously

that they could go and buy new cigarettes,

or go ask the nice girl in the village nearby

for a date.

25.01.2004