This is the time of year when everyone wears a red poppy in the great and just rememberance of our glorious dead (not my choice of words, I've seen alot of dead and among the many words I could use descriptively 'glorious' is not one of them), so this is the itme of year when such 'dead' are on my mind, those who died beside me and those who died at my hand, as well as the many many others.
This has one predictable affect, flashbacks, remembering these people and their 'passing' reminds me of the violence and ugliness associated with it. result = flashbacks.
This is also the time of year when every shop in the street is selling pyrotechnics to 10-year-olds, yes, fireworks season. which means every street in every town is alive with the sound of fireworks, the result = flashbacks.
This is some seriously crappy timing, someone somewhere is having a fecking larf.
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Yeh, someone's having a good old giraffe ... the people who make the cheap fireworks that'll blow those kids hands off.
ReplyDeleteOh, don't tell me ... flashbacks ... sorry.