Flash Cards and Randomly Sorted Picture Albums

I am not an ordinary man. I have what I call a flash memory. Bits and pieces of images stick onto me for reasons I cannot comprehend. Images which would have gone unnoticed by most and considered too irrelevant by others. At times they move me. At times they provide me with the fodder for my demented sense of humour. At times they even refuse to speak to me and just stay there with me...mute. I have stopped trying to reason with them anymore. I have accepted them.
I am not an anti war campaigner. I believe war leads to change and at times change is the need of the hour. But then what of the little boy on crutches at the very beginning of Kabul Express. Most of us who have seen the movie were not so impressed with it but it was this one scene which made it special for me. It said something to me. The world operates on very thin lines and one never knows when one has crossed it. Victory is only relative. Justice is but volatile. If I have given a young boy crutches for a playmate. How can I justify myself. What can I say which will placate my guilt. Should I feel guilty at all. Does my guilt alone justify my intent. I do not know. I can only feel his pain. Nothing you say about terrorism can convince me to believe that he deserved what he got. Nothing they say about US discrimination can make me forgive those who gave guns at the hands of a twelve year old. Nothing I can say about the larger good can persuade me to believe that we have not crossed the line here.
Then there is that fat dog. Out on one of my evening visits to the local bakery I come across this really fat dog and this really skinny construction worker. This poor, hungry and much harassed man was having this measly bun and this very fat dog was right there pawing the frail man with much ferocity. Somewhere the humour of the entire situation caught onto me. The tables have turned here. The hunter is the hunted now. The beggar is the chooser now. With each paw the dog would shake the man's self esteem. So much so that he gave up at the end. The fat dog has won and he sat there stuffing his already overfed self. The poor man walked away. Another victory for another covetous fat dog. I am amused.
Is it is just me or does everyone remember their lives in flashes. I thought that was supposed to happen only when you are about to die. It is like a series of flash cards which only I can link together into a coherent story. Emotions, experiences, feelings and every other neural response all trapped in a randomly sorted picture album and yet in the end it all makes sense. Kudos to the creator.