I feel so sad now. Often than not, what we do estranges us, disconnects us from the custom of average life and unconsciously bestows on us some factitious grandeur that only rapidly crumbles like lighted wax when we get momentarily disjointed from such work or hobby, when such horrific events hit close home. Some of us who have the unfortunate privilege of seeing many people die in both gentle and most cruel manner, both the young, the old and the middle-aged, the diseased and the fresh, have overtime become victims of this occupational hazard, this alienation from human feelings, from all empathy and softness, from the truth that not all accidents could be avoided, and from the reality of ill-fate. But this mutation of character and life is what I'd promised never to be a victim of, and to resist all my life. Yesterday evening, as I was walking home with two of my friends, famished and tired as often, I saw a cluster of people in front of the Accident and Emergency section of th...