A mother, sits on the sofa, enjoys the aroma out of the cup, spreading all over the room.

Waiting for her daughter, clock ticking ...

Phone ring breaks the silence, breaks the peace.

She drops the cup, breaks her heart.

A nightmare began, swats to her.

Stunned.



The mother, sits on the flour, crying for help, tears spreading all over the room.

Five million, yes, 5,000,000.

Her daughter, seventeen, the one and only.

Feeble light shines her face, day after day, night after night.

Fifteen days later, headline news.

Shock.



The mother, sits in the press conference, demands without control, scribbles all over the room.

Polices, politics, president ... everyone tries to do something. Something.

Little late, a little finger and photo found by the road.

Hearts collapse, falling into pieces.

Pale faces, everywhere.

Cruel.



Eighteenth day, final solution.



Misery found under the trench, unbelievable.



The mother, sits in the hall, calm but no expression, Buddhism canons spreading all over the room.

White roses, yellow lilies and orange chrysanthemums.

She has nothing now, but heavy Onus.

Recall the memory, two countries. Exilic life, a bitter mixture.

A pain never vanish, a broken cup.

Ruthless.



A TRUE STORY.

Always Remembered...

April 1997.

Without God.