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Theatres of war exist for some people only on television; the countries where wars are led are far away from their home and they can change station anytime and watch a Hollywood film with a happy end.
It’s the same with the pictures by Annamalt in this book. If they fail to please, you can leaf further on, or whoever is annoyed by the theme, can close the book entirely.
To look at the pictures and speak of pretty colours is not enough. One must get over that, must reflect on what one sees.
There are the color-blind. More are those who allow themselves to be mixed up by colors – or it is their own experience that they deceive and say – blood is always red – green blood doesn`t exist for them. Nor do they know that water, although it looks clean, can be filthy and life-threatening.
They think the sky is blue and only occasionally grey. The night is always black, only gaining color at first through dreams. But it won`t occur to them that the sky can look golden like a wristwatch or car-paint.
They think presents are friendly things and always beautifully, brightly packed. And they learn nothing from their disappointment in opening the packages. They always think it will be better the next time.
Just as they think about the next car, the next job, the next love, the next war.
Many people do not know that the fine and clean are usually dirty to others and that prosperity is not earned, but struggled for in wars.
There are people who are more frightened of a mouse than a weapon and more upset by the red winestain on the carpet than the latest news from the warzones. They are convinced they`ll be spared by the weapons` bullets.
But for whoever only sees the beauty of these pictures, they will remain mere bright surfaces on the wall.