she had to talk me into it a little bit, and later claimed she kidnapped me, but in the end i did get into the car. it's about 4:00 am.

"when the genocide was over, i went outside to play in the park with my dad and...."

what.

i guess when you live through things, you need to talk about them sometimes, and you have to talk about them in ways you can concretize. and, these turns of phrase are just communicative necessities. it's just language. just expression.

but, the nonchalant recollection of tragedy can sometimes hit you hard in it's absurdity.

i'm really a sucker for the surreal.