The rain falls softly outside, pittering against windshields and sidewalks, making things damp but not wet. I tried to write today, tried to use what talent I have to explain a situation on the other side of the planet–many miles of winding road, many more miles of open ocean, and many more miles of road away. What can I say of second hand reports from this distant place? Second hand reports, second hand facts, second hand lies. It’s hard to know who to believe when you have so many different stories. But you see the pictures, you see the dying children. And how do you put it down in just the right words? You don’t want to overwhelm anyone. Perhaps that’s just the idea. But you have to do it in a way that works. A way that explains the severity and the difficulty of the situation. It’s not easy to convince people that their government lies–or at least twists the truth. You just sound like a crackpot. Some things are just big. Maybe a little too big. The best I can do is shine wavering flashlight in the general direction of the attack, where an innocent victim is being raped, and hope someone will know what to do–and have the guts to act.