"Music was his passion. Survival was his master piece."
I wonder, how did they feel? How did the steel-faced (and -hearted maybe) fascists feel like to carry a disabled old man who was really unable to follow their stand-up command and hurl him down the high balcony like a boy dropping off his banana peel into a trash can? How did they feel to see people waling and weeping and begging desperately for their little mercy as they undauntedly carried on the slaying fun? How did they feel like to hear the hopeless scream of the defenseless old man echoing from down the balcony? … They said it was for fun, killing just for the heck of it, but… did it really bring them fun? For true happiness can’t be found in such inhumane activities.
There’s something many may not accept: when someone intentionally hurts another, the truth is that they have been and will be hurt even more, unconsciously or not. Only agonized hearts may cause agony, just as only loved ones may give love - to say on a worldly level. So what they thought was fun in fact did bring them brief moments of satisfaction… and a life of horrific emptiness. It temporarily pleased their thirst but failed to make any fulfilment for their hollow soul. After all, they were just the victims of themselves…
Why can’t human be without war, race, prejudice, discrimination, segregation and all that heck? Why can’t we just live in peace & harmony? Why can’t we just love one another trustfully? “You are born to be loved”, spinning on my mind the quote of a blind little girl who still trusts in love despite her hard life. She’s right. If man is born just to kill each other, what is LIFE for? And what life is without love? Life and Love are by nature synonyms, why make them so contrasting…
Asked if we have any questions, I know mine are just unanswerable ones.
The Pianist Movie
Friday, 17 April 2009
I’ve been exposed to a pretty huge bunch of pictures and paintings depicting the cruelty of war, all of them violent and bloody and piercing… but this is the first time I experience such an obsession evoked by the simple scene that an old man is thrown to death just because he can’t stand up as the command goes due to his disability. What stroke me most was the heart-wringing calmness of the killers: they looked completely detached! Their hands throwing a human being down a high balcony, they acted so quickly and simply as if it was too ordinary for them to care. There were no traces on their robot-like faces to show any emotion, only the wrenching shriek of the bereaved children watching their dear father, still there talking to them a moment ago, now become a deformed corpse lying in a sea of blood. Tears fell down unknowingly, just as the murderers killed unthinkingly. … Brutality is war, I know… Living in war, everything was so fragile and vulnerable, just a blink and all your dearest became dust in the wind…
But…
Yet, the question remains: Why?
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