h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

It's saturday evening, 22.00 GMT and I saw on BBC 2 the news about the horrible murder of the two girlfriends, whose bodies have been just found.
Probably since I have a "space" at this site, I feel now even more related to what happened. Emotions are commonly related to territories and its our mental survival that it works like that, otherwise we would be totally overwhelmed by the amount of impressions.

Two girls are murdered; their friendship killed, their future taken away; dreams unfullfilled.
Children are kidnapped from their parents, stolen from their community.
Their lives whiped out of the book of daily life; reduced to "material" for police researchers.
Reduced to food for the graveyard.
Their lives swallowed by murderer(s).

It happened.
Did not "have to happen", so I don't share the question "why it hád to happen". I believe that question is born out of the emotion that even if you don't have the answer, it at least múst have any (religious) meaning, which thought is in the far end of ány calming. Who wouldn't be sensitive to that way of mourning, if death comes very close.

Gone is their place: in school, at home, in the church, in the village, in Great Brittan, in the world. Their boyfriends receive no more letters and kisses.
Their schoolagenda's are still written full with obligations, meetings, dates for time to come. Our time, not theirs anymore.
Their clock has been forced to stop, lives have been vanished into thin air.
I cannot protest. We cannot protest. The muderer(s) have already won.
But they won't murder our effort to justice, to a peaceful future for all children. And they won't murder ultimately my/our joy in life.
Life is for us. Murderers only posses death and death possesses them.
I know murderers are very common people, no sadistic psychopaths. They "simply" locked the door and threw away the key. Forever. That's frightning, but life is more than fear.


I would líke to sing the words of "DEAR PRUDENCE" of the beatles.

"Dear Prudence, won't you come out to play.
Dear Prudence, greet the brand new day.

The sun is up, the sky is blue.
It's beautiful and so are you,
Dear Prudence, won't you come out to play?"

But I cannot sing it.
No, they wil not "come out to play".
They won't.
Never.
Ever.

They're gone, they're gone, their loss deplore.
For we shall never see them more.
(paraphrase of; "Oh let me weep"/The fairy Queen, Henry Purcell)

I say farewell to the girls, but not to my memory of them and not to the hope they had about life.


Amsterdam, august 17, 2002.
Alfredo.