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Adrião Pereira da Cunha's avatar

This isn’t a headline it’s a cry from the rubble. Behind the numbers are children who danced one day and were buried the next. The word “ceasefire” becomes a cruel echo when the ground is still warm with grief. This text doesn’t ask for pity it demands presence. It reminds us that silence is no longer neutral, and distance is no longer innocent. The horror described isn’t abstract it’s intimate, relentless, and unbearably real. To read this is to feel the weight of complicity pressing against our conscience. And in that weight, a question: what does it mean to be human, if not to refuse to look away?

Richard C. Cook's avatar

I share the tears. This should never happen. Yet it does.

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