I had hoped that these happy children would help me forget all the unhappiness I’ve seen, that their laughter would drown out all the wails that still echo in my head, but sometimes it only seems to make it worse, to make me feel more keenly, like a sixth sense, all the suffering that I know continues every minute of every day, just elsewhere, elsewhere. It seems, unfortunately, that nothing can protect you from your own mind, your knowledge, your memories. The harder you fight to keep thoughts out, the harder they pound the battering ram to get in.
