300 Bombers

Once a war is worse than the former, threats and casualties no longer matter.
It’s all about the money.
Life goes on.
The bombers fly overhead, some explodes in the distance, and every now and then a siren sounds. Radio silence.
I paint the door green and sniff paint, no glue.
A cold breeze inside.

_{18-3-2026
300 characters
The photo is mine}