You can always get used to travelling, to meeting people, to seeing incredible things, but you can never get used to pain, to horror, to death. You see kids eating ice cream in the US one day, because they decided they wanted some, and the next day, in Vietnam, you see kids moving around in wheelchairs, because 40 years ago, two countries were at war.
Who can know in advance what tomorrow will be like? Who can say they’ll meet the most incredible man in a random university in the deep south of Vietnam, or the most annoying cab driver in Manhattan? Who can predict a war, or a wave of disease? Who can predict whether the cocoon you see on the branch of a tree will create a beautiful butterfly, or a hideous stick insect?
We see beautiful things every day here, meet the most fascinating people and eat the most interesting food, but we can also see hatred, feel years of criticism and remorse towards the past and understand the consequences of humans’ decisions, as harmful and destructive they were.
I’m like a ship, tossed about, on a stormy sea of moving emotions. My brain is full of thoughts, of wonderful memories and a wish to see more, but also of distaste, and anger toward human beings. But who are we supposed to blame for disasters, for death? And who are we supposed to thank for magnificence, for miracles? I don’t know yet because I am far from having all the answers to the flood of questions drowning my mind.
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