Guns, Knives & Death

The power of guns fascinates me. The fact that human beings created something with gives them the power of a god-to choose life and death over another human being, without ever having to look them in the eye- is amazing. It is proof of humans need to be the strongest, and ability to be just that. It shows our tenatcity and ingenuity that we can come up with a system so complex and requiring so many different elements and components. It is in the same league as planes and helicopters and telephones and vaccines in terms of human development and genius.

It is strange that humans have this drive. The lack of contentment that pushes us to find better ways of doing things.

I like the power of a gun, the control it gives you. That excites me like you wouldn’t believe. It makes me feel like a god, and yet like nothing at the same time. I know that with it I am all powerful, but against it, I am but a moth in the face cyclone. I have no say in the matter, no way to put think it or wriggle my way out of it.

As much as I love guns (which may be a byproduct of not being allowed them at all) I prefer knives. There is something alluring and personal about looking someone in the eyes, watching their life force leave their body, feeling the warmth of their blood on your skin, and watching feeling them release their final breath.

The beauty of a blade is mesmerising. Its polarity is incredible. It can be so destructive and life ending and yet constructive and life saving. It can reduce a life to meat, and yet it can help feed and clothe you. With a blade you can destroy a forest, and yet create beautiful art and homes.

I like that a blade can be worn down, and yet with a bit of love, effort and care, it can be made sharp and true again. I admire its’ strength and resilience.