children of the revolution

i was having coffee when the voices floated in. it was the usual crowd -- adults, posters, flags, families. Syrians. i had seen a similar rally at Vienna´s Stephensplatz in june. this one in Madrid is smaller. but what makes it unique is that the voices are those of children. they are taking turns to demonstrate their rage at their leader. they scream, they clap. they are watched by ordinary Spaniards. some are taking photos, some cheering them on. a group of policemen watch from across the road, probably wishing they had something better to do on a lovely warm sunday afternoon.

i walk around the so-called protest site, snapping pictures as i weave in and out. i cannot help but be moved by the rousing voices. they are desperate, they are impatient for change. i feel like joining them, shouting slogans at the Syrian embassy which sits quietly on the second floor of the building across the street. 

as i walk away from them, an urge rises from within to hurl a stone at the Syrian mission. i want it to ask my questions, to convey their people´s rage, to smash the walls and windows of helplessness. but what good has violence done anyone anyway..

note:

this entry was first written in October 2011.

since then, many more people have died in the continuing violence in Syria.

and as the world did before, it will carry on watching from the comfort of its living room couch.