“If not us, then who else?”

The poison inside the syringe would not be injected into someone's body unless a finger pushed it. The same with a locked gate, no one could enter the premises legally unless they had the key. Cruelty grew because of the stinky water people had spilled over a tiny seed and even trimmed it for decent manifestation. Believe it or not, what the speaker has said is indeed filled with the truth that "...the evil of the world is made possible by nothing but the sanction you give it…" though the majority would probably believe that it is but a mere opinion.The poison inside the syringe would not be injected into someone's body unless a finger pushed it. The same with a locked gate, no one could enter the premises legally unless they had the key. Cruelty grew because of the stinky water people had spilled over a tiny seed and even trimmed it for decent manifestation. Believe it or not, what the speaker has said is indeed filled with the truth that "...the evil of the world is made possible by nothing but the sanction you give it…" though the majority would probably believe that it is but a mere opinion.

Now, let me tell you a story that somehow managed to be born and die inside my thoughts as I am writing this essay. Another day to live, and anticipate nothing but that taste of death. Thereupon the sun had risen already and a blind teenager was sitting right in front of me, he was staring at space, and so was I. This colorful world I now can see is nothing to be compared to the powerful blackness his sight has provided him. Then the blind man stared at a part of me, my forehead and as I peeked at his eyes, I saw nothing aside from his deaf gazes, that I heard nothing but silence. And yet he's perhaps listening to a different thing inside what he calls home. His mother silently sitting beside him holding his freezing hands tightly is filled with bruises on both her arms even her two cheeks are reddish as my eyes are stuck on them. She's weak. Clear as crystal I could hear the whimpers of her wounds but even if she has given ten tongues, there is not a single syllable coming out from her mouth. A man came out from behind, good-looking, and had an ideal body build carrying plastic with two empty cans of beer clinking inside. His eyes were as if his second tongue easily commanded the mother and son to stand on their feet and hastily move. They were now starting their journey going to a place they would prefer to call a prison. It wasn't easy living in a four-cornered cold shelter room, having above them a ripped metallic ceiling that cries when it rains and sparkles when it thunders. But they never chose to live a life like that, conceivably, there wasn't even a choice prepared for them to take another path. But as they consciously breathed to live they somehow found a company, a penniless one. Imagine a comrade offering the other a bullet without a gun and the other offering a gun without a bullet, how can they shoot the enemy? Although four eyes were open, half was blind and two tongues could utter but the other was shut. The silence between us was boisterous, as I followed their footsteps. Nevertheless, the shout of his mother is audible, and his child's vision is clear. It wasn't just my two eyes that were captivated by their appearances but only a few were able to move their feet, without looking at them passing by. Then a siren was heard from a distance, these three souls in front of me were never hurried by the sound, no one stopped at all and everyone except me turned their gazes away. As the police car was coming near, a man sitting in the passenger seat glued his eyes on the three, and the man leading the walk held up his right arm. They both saluted each other with laughter and camaraderie before passing through each other's space. Hence, the journey continued, and four feet resumed. An hour passed, and we reached the place, so I halted and sat under the leafless tree putting down my camera along with my pen and paper. Another sleepless night to bother myself with such an interesting story I've found in my neighborhood.

As I sat and gently closed my eyes, I had to rethink what I had seen. It was neither the blind eyes of the kid that stopped them from leaving the house, nor the mute mother that adored him, and not even the stronger man in the house who chained them in. But the people who intentionally pulled out their eyeballs not to see, and cut their tongues not to voice out what has been being performed in an accessible circus. Even a firearm that has a bullet never courageously shot an alarm, and a badge of respect never poured a bit of compassion. I am paid to write a genuine and factual story but the readers see it as a tale, an interesting point of view that's never been a viewpoint of the change.