A man sits in the cockpit of a plane. He sees his target straight ahead. He sees nothing else. He’s trained for years, and for many months he has lived towards this moment. He is a caring friend, a good companion, a friendly neighbour and a trusted comrade. And he has in his head and his heart a clear image of "the others", of the enemy. He’s been taught and trained and briefed and he feels he knows all he needs to know about them. But does he know any single one of them?

He has friends. The other members of his team of course. They are closest now. But also a former teacher, a neighbour, a childhood friend. He cares for them. There is a woman. He knows love and enjoys laughter. He has his own story, ambitions, dreams and fears. He has a mother. He has courage. A lot of courage.

In front of him is his target. And his target is alive. And although each life has laughter, loves, stories, ambitions, dreams, fears, and a mother, he is not aware. They are the target. They are the others. The others are responsible for many things that are 'evil'. They are the enemy. Their way of life threatens his life and his way of life.

He's not mad and he's no fool. He feels he knows "them" and all he needs to know about "them", all he wants to know about "them". And he can not bring himself to not knowing "them". He thinks he sees the whole and fails to see the real whole, the all important details, the lives, all the lives.

The enemy

They are dead.
And we who live should identify each one.
However unidentifiable they have become in explosions, fire, collapsing buildings and statistics.
Their future, their limitless potential, has been blown into the past.

They are here in all of us, unborn and never dying.
They are me and you.
They are here and now.
There are no others.
There is no enemy.


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Aftermath