The devastation, the misery is surreal.
Perhaps I am generalizing far too much so let this be in the first person: let me thus replace We with I instead.
I am stunned by my lack of empathy to the unfolding tragedy in the land of the rising sun. It was as if I am merely watching one of the many – far too many, to me – disaster movie, driven by over the top CGI where the heroes and heroines win and hopes restored.
In my mind, I see a man munching away at potato chips, bits falling onto a semi plush carpet, while in the idiotbox, a news caster pays homage to growingly bigger death count (somewhere, the man thinks, not here); the children bickering just earshot away.
It's a cold image.
Maybe it’s just me; but even as I type this, colleagues around me are doing what they (we, really) usually do on any typical working day: fun and frolic, worries kept until towards the month’s ending when the wallet thins.
Japan: too far, nobody we know. We feel pity, but hey, life goes on.
The heart is a cold, cruel world.
When did compassion die, I wonder?
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