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By Ollie Richardson

Fresh shelling reported by local agencies, a child was killed, along with the hope of the entire block for something other than constant misery. But it doesn’t settle well with us, because we know who, where, and why. We know that every time this happens is once too many. We know that we are responsible in some way for our own reflection. Despite our insistence that sunrise presents us with a new chance for forgiveness of us of our transgressions – it seems that today was yesterday’s tomorrow. And here we are again. Fresh shelling reported – but this time it was that ever bit closer to home.

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It seems that every one is a target, no one is exempt.  The wrong place at the right time, or in other words – fate. Material possessions, sentimental crutches, reminders of purpose and aspirations – all gone in an instant, but only tangibly speaking. These things also have metaphysical properties – which never expire.

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The price of everything but the value of nothing – the mantra of those intent on taking I from I, self from self. The relentless pursuit of returning to nothing leads to the realisation that things are what we make of them. A penny to one man is a £ to another. But for some, quality is secondary to quantity. A wooden box awaits those who refuse to sell themselves to the highest bidder.

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Fresh shelling reported by local agencies, a child was killed, along with the hope of an entire nation for something other than constant guilt. But it doesn’t settle well with us, because we know who, where, and why – us, from the inside, because of fate. We know that every time this happens is once too many. We know that we are responsible in some way for our own reflection. Despite our insistence that sunrise presents us with a new chance for forgiveness of us of our transgressions – it seems that today was yesterday’s tomorrow. And here we are again. Fresh shelling reported – but this time it wasn’t Donbass, Syria, or Yemen – it was Europe.

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Of course, this time it is different. And revenge must be sought. The heart must be ripped out of the perpetrator’s chest – and nothing less. Nothing is out of limits, and all means will be good in order to satisfy the quench for bloodlust. The colour of money is one such colour that runs red… Deliver us from evil.

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There is no fate than what we make for ourselves. Looking at our own reflection can be a bitter pill to swallow, but it’s a mandatory requirement in order to sincerely reconnect with terra nova.  The past is dead, the present is living – what will the future be? Time will tell, but the words it will utter depend on how we chose to find safety… After being lost in the dark, seemingly lost forever, there is light at the end of the tunnel. Capture and embrace!

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