That a man should have hands, and feet, and all these things that kit him out to be a person, and for them to be so vulnerable, so easily lost… why don’t I see more amputees from the war? Are they being hidden? Is the sadness so great we need to obscure what waits for us all?
Every day we’re all in danger of having our personhood, our selves, our most treasured things hacked away and left to the crows.
And yet you think there’s something heroic about bringing a child here? To help it as best you can?
People who don’t exist don’t need your help, and I prefer the heroism of a lonely old age and the restraint of my baser instincts.