Albert walks past the wall every day. When he started working in the district, he was struck dumb, dead in his tracks by the enormity, the power, the sacrifice, the suffering. He cried, blowing his nose on his tie. Now he doesn't see the flowers, the widows, the miles of names. He sees the tourists, the bottleneck of traffic, the delay to his commute. Who cares about a war when you see it every day?
B.Nagel - wow. Intense but amazingly crafted. Two paragraphs imbued with a world of meaning!