Kabul: and a tale of remembering yet again

It's so easy not to look.  It's so easy to stay in our own little worlds where dramas revolve around broken appliances and children with the flu, and alarm clocks that don't go off.  It's so easy to live in a way that's safe and sanitized, away from the Syrias, away from the refugees, away from the child soldiers.  

We can pretend that it's not happening.  We can sweep it under the carpet.  We can turn off the nightly news.  We have those choices.  Lucky, lucky, aren't we?

I wrote this blog post from the restaurant that was just bombed in Kabul Afghanistan.  How ironic that I was writing about remembering a different war when I was there.  And now I will remember this restaurant and this war  and ponder the inexplicable nature of inexplicable things.  

Terrible. So so terrible.

I will also try to remember that when small things go wrong that seem so very tiresome in my own little world, to snap my own fingers in front of my own face and snap out of it.  I've disappointed myself in that department lately.

And so to mourn this sad event in Kabul, let these words be my own moment of silence without the silence.  And let them also be a reminder to me to do better at doing better.  

PS I'll leave you with the series I did on finding beauty in Kabul:

Kabul and the quest for beauty: a tale of music

Kabul and the quest for beauty: a tale of the miniaturists

Kabul and the quest for beauty: the tale of the woodcarvers

Kabul and the quest for beauty: a tale of Zarif Design

Kabul and the quest for beauty: a tale of the Afghan jewelers

Kabul and a tale of beauty's uncertain future