Beyond the bombs and the blood, the war is made of contrails. Not those of airplanes and missiles, not those of smoke. The trails are the aftermath of pain and death that ride a generation and destroy the young soul of an entire country.
We are on the coast, in a safe town washed by our own sea. Syria is the last strip in the Mediterranean: the first to see the sun come into being and the first to which hopes of correct information set. Here, while the West speaks of nothingness, it has already died.
We met the children of the massacre that has been taking place for five years: A. and H .. They are 6 and 9 years old. They are two of five brothers, educated and generous. They are accompanied by their older sister, a beautiful 20-year-old girl.
Once confidence is reached, the smallest pulls a biscuit out of his pocket and offers it to us. For them it is an important gift and to refuse would be an abuse. From a misunderstood word a smile blossoms, but their intelligent eyes carry the weight of a deep shadow, an evident scar that scratches the light. We ask the uncle and the terrible picture becomes clear.
Until three years ago the father of the 5 brothers was a famous lawyer from Homs. He had a great flaw: he loved his country and when the revolt broke out he remained loyal to the government, continuing to work. As always, as a simple citizen, as if there were still a future. 
Together with four colleagues he was kidnapped from his office and tortured for days. Finally, in the YouTube video ritual, he was slaughtered and beheaded. The heads of the five lawyers were delivered to their respective families. The intent was to frighten the population and induce them to leave the city. Terror wanted absolute emptiness to be filled with other ideas, other flags, other distant interests. For that family, the project was successful. Their home in Homs was destroyed and with it the intertwining of five normal families in a normal country of which little or nothing was talked about.
Today is a special day: the second brother of 19 years has completed training in the army where he volunteered last year and leaves today for the front. The uncle who asked him if he wasn't afraid replied: "I'm going for my father". The third child attends high school. He dreams of becoming a doctor. The military salary of the first two allows the family to survive. The children who still look curious are model students. The youngest wants to study to become a judge and follow in his father's footsteps.
We are told of the nightmares, of the loud screams with which the five brothers woke up at night. In the sweet air of the sea that will smell of spring in a while, the contrast is enormous.
One last look at the children and a lump in my throat. Impossible not to feel involved, touched, responsible. We come from an advanced and civil world, anointed with the fat of useless things. A world that has armed the hand of ignorant animals, calling them "moderate rebels". In the chatter of a baggy policy, Italy is part of that world. A guilty world that now cannot do better than clearing its conscience and watching.
But the important thing now is to know. In icy indifference, in counter-information, in the daily distortion of news related to who knows what, it is important to see and understand. One day we can say "I saw, I listened, I knew ".
Let's think about what we heard while the sun goes down. A kiosk sells fruit juices, in a strange logic of excessive normality. The blue of the sky meanders the indigo waters of the Mediterranean. The sun runs and bends over the water. Soon that light will also fall in Italy and it will be dark for Syria and darkness on the thoughts of the West.
(photo: Andrea Cucco)
