Because somewhere in the world, every day, a bomb goes off somewhere – a landmine long forgotten, a shell fired at someone miles away so the firer doesn’t have to see who he’s killed, a homemade bomb in the London Underground, an explosion at one of the most famous public events in the world.
And whoever that bomb kills, if I say I’m sorry it’s meaningless. If I get angry it’s pointless. If I get sad it’s selfish…I don’t know who you’ve lost, I can’t know how you feel.
I’m writing this because if I don’t say something, somehow, I’ll scream, or throw up, or punch a wall. And none of that will help either.
I’m writing because there is nothing I can say. I wish I could hug you instead.