All of creation suffers, young ones. Only in accepting our own mortality can we make a difference. Only in bearing the burden of our failures can we find the strength to go on. Only in detachment from glory, or honour, or jealousy... from life itself can we hope to spare others from grief. We are Doom Eagles. And we are dead already.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Tell Tale Lore (VI): Dead Man Walking Paulo Gonçalves
I am sitting at my window and I see them walking out there. Tears drop freely upon my face. Why? I am killing just another one of them. One of hundred kills. My scope is on her head. My watery eyes do not let me focus. Why? I have a picture in my window... I can't shoot... I can't shoot another of them. Why? I put my rifle in position again and I see her face now. She has turn to me. Her mouth is opening and closing... a remniescence of being alive. She looks upward to me. My eyes are focus on her eyes. She can't see me can she? Her posture says nothing but her eyes say "kill me"... I can't live without her....and I pull the trigger... on me!
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2 comments:
tens alguma historia pensada onde esta cena encaixa...ou criaste a cena isolada...para assim ser..sem nada mais?
Interpretação estonteneante nesta página, postagens como aqui vemos demonstram valor ao indivíduo que visitar neste blog .....
Escreve muito mais deste sítio, aos teus leitores.
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