A THOUSAND BEAUTIFUL WORDS.

 THE TRUTH WE AVERT OUR EYES FROM

Life—like a river that flows endlessly, starting over without ever truly beginning. And in its current, perhaps the most fragile, most restless being is the human.

The human being... Trying to be beautiful, adorning their face and body with layers of beauty like a mask. But often, that beauty is not a light shining from within—it is a curtain woven from pain, fear, and the desperate need to be seen. A veil drawn over our eyes to keep from seeing what we fear most: the truth.

But truth…

Truth is not something that can be hidden. No matter how deeply we bury it, one day it touches our skin—through an image, a silence, or the hunger of a child.

I saw a photograph.

A child, starved to the bone, collapsed on the ground.

And a few steps away—a vulture, waiting.

Waiting not with empathy, but with instinct.

Waiting for death to do its part.

In that moment, the world fell silent.

No crowds, no screens, no "likes"—just a bare, unbearable truth.

And I ask myself:

Do we really understand what it means to be human?

Those who chase validation through curated lives and filtered smiles—what would they feel standing before that image? Anything?

Has sorrow itself become nothing more than a fleeting neurochemical reaction?

Has empathy turned into a filter?

Has suffering become just another metric?

That child was alive.

Caught between being and not being, existing in a moment the world refused to witness. Maybe a sip of water, maybe a touch of kindness could have kept them alive. But as we looked at them—if we dared to look—it was not the child we were avoiding, but ourselves.

And the vulture...

Perhaps it was only doing what nature dictated.

But in that frame, we, the ones with conscience, stood colder than the bird of prey.

This is not a plea.

Not an accusation.

Just a reminder.

Try to hear the scream that a photo cannot mute.

Look at yourself through the eyes of the child.

Because sometimes, truly seeing speaks louder than a thousand beautiful words.

E.G.