History of Sorts

One teardrop rolls down my face when I see your smile.

I don’t know why because I have never met you.

Yet I feel a profound sadness to know that this smile will never be seen again.

One tear rolls down my face when I read you were murdered aged 4 or 5.

Then I realize you were not the only one. 1.5 million children were murdered by the same ideology or rather idiocracy.

1.5 million tears roll down my face. One tear for each of the innocent lives destroyed by a regime that saw people like me—tall, blonde and blue-eyed—as the perfect human being, and that makes me feel sick sometimes.

There are no perfect human beings, we all have our imperfections and that is what makes us unique individuals because none of the imperfections are the same. That uniqueness is our wealth and makes us all equal.

The closest to perfection are those 1.5 million children who were murdered.

Killed by evil idiots. But not in my name. I am one of those tall, blonde blue-eyed “Godlike” humans that these idiots aspired to become like. The truth is we are the furthest away from a divine creature you could possibly imagine.

You killed 1.5 million of the most divine creatures ever to roam the planet. Divine creatures like Zsuzsa Guttmann were murdered in Auschwitz Birkenau in 1944.

But not in my name. Never in my name.