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Non-Fiction, Outrospective

Holding the Line

I didn’t expect it, wasn’t prepared for it, but the tears came out anyway.

Libya.  War.  Revolution.  Death.  Joy.  False bravado. Courage.

There is no answer to war, no way around it, it will always happen, so long as we are divided, so long as we see differences between each other.

In some ways war is good, not really though.  I don’t even know how to make that argument because for all the good things to occur in war so many people must die, must sacrifice “Give their lives for free” as Feras Asheni said in Patrick Well’s film for Al Jazeera, “Holding the Line”..

I cried.  I cried fast and hard, it hit me like a punch to the stomach does, hurting for a moment, more when you think about it, and a dull ache if you don’t.

I watched a full-grown man slam a bench in…in what?  How do you describe how a man must be feeling when he sees another he cares about gunned down, prayers said over his pale body, lifted from the stretcher to be buried later?  Was he frustrated, angry, jealous?

This is war.  War has no winners for the ones on the battlefield, they all lose, whether they admit it or not, they lose a piece of themselves, a piece of their heart and their humanity, some give it all away, some try to maintain a piece of themselves, some try to forget the blood, because “the blood is the worst part”.

I’ve never seen someone killed in real life before, it will probably happen some day, as I’m trying to tell the stories of people constantly faced with death.  I want to give them their voice back, even a part of it, a bit of it.  Through a picture I’ll let their eyes speak to the world, and through words I’ll let their hearts reach out.

As Hemingway said, “In going where you have to go, and doing what you have to do, and seeing what you have to see, you dull and blunt the instrument you write with. But I would rather have it bent and dulled and know I had to put it on the grindstone again and hammer it into shape and put a whetstone to it, and know that I had something to write about, than to have it bright and shining and nothing to say, or smooth and well oiled in the closet, but unused.”

Watch the video here.


About Jared Krauss

traveler, reader, thinker, writer, photographer, doer


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