I’m shook. It never feels right carrying on, there’s a rallying cry for recompense that swells inside, as though your world should stand still in solidarity with those who no longer have a world of their own. Speaking of “your” world – it’s so easy to feel so content on your own axis, as it circles smaller and smaller until it implodes – or explodes – and everything is thrown off kilter again.
Then finally people converge, because these teeny-tiny worlds we create can’t mean anything when there’s a child sitting with nails in their face, because no matter what, it seems that our urge to help is always stronger than our urge to survive.
And complacency is an admission of defeat in itself. It’s a phrase which feels slightly stale now, but love continues to win. The staff at A&E, the receptionist at the Holiday Inn the taxi drivers of Manchester, all working through the night to ensure safety, despite the very real possibility of further fatalities, and further trauma.
Love will always win.