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Human rights stories about war

There was an explosion, I told you.
And, what interests you most, there are also the dead.
The injured.
And the missing ones.
All the usual story, or the book that comes out when the writer is called death and the publishers, well... the publishers are us. Even if we used to think of being just impotent readers.
I also have photos, if you wish. And I know that you want it, because the common eye seeks peace from the flowing red necessarily far and from reassuring shapes of black that must be bad for sure. It is an indispensable cliché, calming our fears with the misfortunes of others and diluting consciences with purifying solutions, screaming at the evil character in the monitor.

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