I walked by this "Knotted Gun" sculpture last week and decided to take a picture of it this time, for some reason. It was made by Swedish artist Carl Fredrik Reutersward after the death of John Lennon. Placed here instead of at Strawberry Fields it makes a much stronger, more universal statement. Inside the lobby of the building the sentiment is given flesh and blood. Currently there is an exhibit featuring victims of violence from around the world telling their stories to the camera, the evidence of their traumas sometime visible on their bodies. Watching their testimonies a lump formed in my throat - was it guilt at being so passive? Or maybe anger that these acts are committed so easily and with such little remorse. How far deep is that ugliness in me? And what would it take to bring it out? Last night I watched the news on a TV where I couldn't control what I was seeing and the stories were alternating between the families of victims in Israel and  those in Ukraine. The equivocations make my blood boil. The vows to crush your enemies terrify me. As usual, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez struck the perfect tone in her response. I briefly considered hanging an Israeli flag next to a Palestinian flag outside my house then thought better of it. Someone would get the wrong idea.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9LiPuVRyU8