Something stirred in the back of my mind yesterday. Far off and faint like the first thump of a helicopter’s coming. It’s coming slowly, coming nearer, louder, sharper. Small desperate cries faint beneath the thumping. My mind tells me, grasp on to it. See, listen; while the other part of my mind tells me to turn away and not to see. To flee the picture which forces its way into my mind. What was it I saw – the Dome of the Rock, the Western Wall, the hills surrounding the city – a memorial garden? The warmth, the laughter, the heat – people, loud voices. Turning inwards - their cries. Such pain, such appalling pain, a vast sea of faces - a swarm gathering – there is no escaping their fate. Silence in a desolation in so vast a barren landscape . Even the innocent will die. Each footstep I took was upon parched white bones. Is this the agonising path they must tread? How quickly the dead become just bones. There was no pity within me - only desolation and tears. My soul cried out – “do not do this” yet my words remained unheard as they echoed and echoed around me. Even now I ask myself “Why”? “Why”? “Why”? … and then it faded within seconds into the dark cloying mist of memory …only the memory of it is left - - replaying again and again, like a clop from a film I’d never wanted to see.