I wonder and always end up losing myself in an endless wilderness, wondering
what the heck the world-conscience stands for. Whatever this bullshit signifier
refers to, it never fails to declare its sublime emergence in the hands of
media to illumine the gravity of images like that of the Syria-boy, pulled out
from the dust and rubble of a ripped off home, sweet home! in the war-torn
Aleppo. They say the masterpiece poking at our motionless emotions give yet
another punch-undoubtedly with the mighty strength of a kindergartner – to the
biggest show on earth (in terms of Shakespearean comedy, the one and only WORLD
Conscience.
Smile please, World Conscience wanna take a Selfie:
“What a piece of work is a man!...The beauty of the world. The paragon of
animals. And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?”
(William Shakespeare: Hamlet)
Well, whatever Mr. Shakespeare intends to mean or however Hamlet cordially
correlates us, the greatest creation on earth, to quintessence of dust, we do
not need to go any deeper, nor do we need to be poetic enough to have a clear
shot on the boy: the literal epitome of the quintessence of dust, dressed in
the dust of the world, decorated with the ornaments of war, shouldering the
greed of the war-lords….. A great piece of work indeed, with one eye being
compromised to dust-smothered blood and the other one with the look that goes
nowhere: so meaningfully blank, so artistically shell-shocked, just enough to
tie down the tides of pain, agony, fear, despair, and despondence smeared into
it.
Life Goes on, Statistics Changes
Syria’s pre-war population of 24.5 million goes down to 17.9 million, with
half a million becoming the shadows of sighs to the world and finding
themselves in the statistical reports of the humanitarian groups. We played
with our emotions a lot enough with Aylan, the 3-year old toddler whose
lifeless body washed up to the beach near a RESORT city. And, now with Omran.
For God’s sake, media, let the World –Conscience go squandering, leaving our
noses buried down in Aylan’s shore:
“Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the Valley of Death.”
(Alfred, Lord Tennyson: The Charge of
the Light Brigade)
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