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Dec. 3rd, 2008 07:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alt_kingsleyHere's hoping I don't muck this up.
I don't know what to talk about here so I'll tell you about the muggle camps. I'm sure you've heard from Padfoot, but here's my take on it.
The camps at night are actually very pretty. We camp up on a hill, if we can, looking over the camp below. It's getting cold now, and a mist often hugs the ground. To me, it looks like the haze of a thousand shattered dreams, shimmering in silent witness. Yet, through that haze, lights shine. Pinpoints of light, appearing one by one as the day winds down. As the sky turns red in the west, the camps seem to come alive. It's a beautiful sight, but also slightly menacing. There's an undertone there, and it wakes in the dark, sacred night. It's a foolish man who fails to grasp that, and that will be his downfall.
Hitler, towards the end of World War 2, grew complacent, then delusional. The fact that the Germans were conscripting boys as young as 11 didn't deter him and we all know how that particular bit of history turned out. Everyone in Europe, by 1944, thought surely the war would be over by then. Hitler had been training officers to be administrators of theTerritory: the territory in question being the United States.
I know a few Americans and I feel I can safely say that Hitler underestimated them, to say the least. That little stunt would have met with fierce resistance, the rebels cries of "Don't tread on me" echoing through the pages of history. Their will to live, and live as they wished, far exceeded the mad illusions of a megalomanic whose tenuous grasp on reality faded just a bit each day.
Look at London during the blitz. Londoners went about their lives, ducking for cover at night, but not changing their routines much. Their will to live, and the belief that things would get better, HAD to get better, kept them going.
Those liberated from concentration camps survived, despite desperate conditions that would take down you or I.
The human heart, and the human spirit, transcends magic. It transcends barbed wire and fences. It transcends you and I.
I look down at the muggle camps, those fortresses of misery and despair, and I want, with all my heart, to tell everyone there to keep fighting. Don't give up hope.
I meet so many different people. So many ways to live, but, in all the people I have met, they all have one common goal: just to live their lives.
The camps grow silent as the sky begins to lighten in the east. They're quiet during the day. The day, for the muggles in harsh sight of their captors, is a profane thing. Nights are sacred, born of mystery and the yearning to become something more, and to leave the world a better place than which we found it.
At night, I look at the stars. As the lights in the camps below glow with the warmth of humanity, the stars above glitter in cold silence. A cat may look at a king; muggles, mudbloods, halfbloods and purebloods all over the world look up and see the same stars.
People are destructible. To some, expendable.
But the human heart is not, nor will it ever be.
I don't know what to talk about here so I'll tell you about the muggle camps. I'm sure you've heard from Padfoot, but here's my take on it.
The camps at night are actually very pretty. We camp up on a hill, if we can, looking over the camp below. It's getting cold now, and a mist often hugs the ground. To me, it looks like the haze of a thousand shattered dreams, shimmering in silent witness. Yet, through that haze, lights shine. Pinpoints of light, appearing one by one as the day winds down. As the sky turns red in the west, the camps seem to come alive. It's a beautiful sight, but also slightly menacing. There's an undertone there, and it wakes in the dark, sacred night. It's a foolish man who fails to grasp that, and that will be his downfall.
Hitler, towards the end of World War 2, grew complacent, then delusional. The fact that the Germans were conscripting boys as young as 11 didn't deter him and we all know how that particular bit of history turned out. Everyone in Europe, by 1944, thought surely the war would be over by then. Hitler had been training officers to be administrators of theTerritory: the territory in question being the United States.
I know a few Americans and I feel I can safely say that Hitler underestimated them, to say the least. That little stunt would have met with fierce resistance, the rebels cries of "Don't tread on me" echoing through the pages of history. Their will to live, and live as they wished, far exceeded the mad illusions of a megalomanic whose tenuous grasp on reality faded just a bit each day.
Look at London during the blitz. Londoners went about their lives, ducking for cover at night, but not changing their routines much. Their will to live, and the belief that things would get better, HAD to get better, kept them going.
Those liberated from concentration camps survived, despite desperate conditions that would take down you or I.
The human heart, and the human spirit, transcends magic. It transcends barbed wire and fences. It transcends you and I.
I look down at the muggle camps, those fortresses of misery and despair, and I want, with all my heart, to tell everyone there to keep fighting. Don't give up hope.
I meet so many different people. So many ways to live, but, in all the people I have met, they all have one common goal: just to live their lives.
The camps grow silent as the sky begins to lighten in the east. They're quiet during the day. The day, for the muggles in harsh sight of their captors, is a profane thing. Nights are sacred, born of mystery and the yearning to become something more, and to leave the world a better place than which we found it.
At night, I look at the stars. As the lights in the camps below glow with the warmth of humanity, the stars above glitter in cold silence. A cat may look at a king; muggles, mudbloods, halfbloods and purebloods all over the world look up and see the same stars.
People are destructible. To some, expendable.
But the human heart is not, nor will it ever be.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-04 02:57 am (UTC)However, I wish that the goodness of the human heart would put food on the table at Moddey Dhoo. I suppose it does, in a way, but quite a round-about way.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-04 04:29 am (UTC)