Concealed between the trunks of the towering trees, a group of soldiers found their spot on the ground and took a break from shooting. Fortunately, they were not in the middle of a war; they were part of a short film that aims to benefit the children of those who fell.
This image taken last year is worth a post because my country lost fifteen brave souls to rebels on the day we celebrated National Heroes Day, August 29. Like these soldiers impressively hidden as part of the earth, we only know of these acts once they’re gone; the conflict goes on as usual. Life and death go on, as usual. This must be a facet of choosing one’s battles.
But out there in the fields, in the forests, and in the shadows of structures that have already crumbled, fighters have already picked their fight. Waiting, aiming, hoping not to be seen, still making an impact, still surviving.
It must nice to fantasise moments when enemies put their arms down, to pause, to breathe, to take shade from the heat, and the soldiers from the warring sides glance at each other, across battle lines, nodding that it’s good to stop for a moment, unarmed, to have their arms free.