Everytime I heard about some terorist act, I always think about where is in this world, a place that I could be lived safely in. Just like when I heard about the Charlie Hedbo attack. Phillipe Val, an editor at Charlie Hedbo said "Today I am practically all alone, all my friends are gone. And this was not for a bad cause, it was so that we all could live, so that kids were free to come and go, and say silly things, without danger"
The victim of this attack were the people who write for years, and just in a second, they have gone. I always think about how much someone have done, how someone works affects on so many people, how someone presence changes another life, and at one point, they just have gone. Their works remain but at one point their life stop going but the world still goes on.
There are many people who works hard just for food for their family from day to night, but when it stop, it feels like their life is meaningless, since the world and the family move on with their life. For some famous people who did great things, whose works was remembered by the rest of the world, I feel kinda bizare, what is life since the person have gone but their works still on. It feels like their presence was bias, like they are alive but not.
It's freaking me out