I come back on my post about the execution of Bin Laden
. I cannot say murder, for obvious reasons. Bin Laden was not murdered, he was killed. It brought a certain catharis
to the Americans and the world in general, or at least the West. Today, I was thinking how fitting it was that he died in May, when spring is in full bloom and turning into. I am sure he couldn't care less, but there is a sort of poetic justice
in it. I always thought that dying during springtime was the most cruel time of death. Dying on a beautiful autumn day
too, but that is terribly unfair. Bin Laden's death was pretty much as fair as a death can be. I hope we have a beautiful May, especially in Pakistan.
C'est dur de mourir au printemps tu sais...
/'scuse d'avoir détruit mon autre commentaire, mais j'avais par mégarde mis les trois premières lettres du mot de vérifications "sti", ça changeait un peu le ton dudit commentaire
Justice is a lovely human construct that fails so miserably time, and time again. I just don't believe in it poetic, or otherwise.
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