11 yrs is nothing and Warning - Bad language (plus swearing)

Turns out I'm the authority figure who won't help. Yeesh. Talked about Kosovo today. 11 yrs later and the memories are so powerful. Trying to provide hope - or a reason for same - for those who still retain the capacity for hope (despite all evidence suggesting the contrary). Self-damning (what else) for my inaction, my sense of powerlessness in the large scheme of things (and it is a scheme, let me be clear). Just because I AM paranoid doesn't mean someone isn't out to get me - Ha!

Those fuckers killed the camp cat, hanged it (hung it??). Fuckers.

Just as I am the only one able to help myself, it would seem that I can also let myself down - who knew? What a relief.

The scraps of positive that linger - having a beer with the engineers. I hate beer but it felt like an honour to me. Being asked to play cards with them and their short-one-card deck. Precious. Feeling connected, connected in the midst of insanity and quicksand. Desperate clinging. No help in sight. Succumbing together - some comfort there. At least we do not agonize alone. Let's laugh while there is still time, let's be goofy while there is still time. Let us wonder at the coloured sky, while there is still time. Let us wonder.