The ruins have been left as they were found.
The blue jug reminds you that there were people just like us, drinking the cafes.
The burned bicycles remind you of the 6 people cycling through the village ... the 6 strangers who were were murdered along with the villagers.
The burned sewing machines in every house make you wonder about the pride felt by each women as she created.
I left New Zealand mid-2003, bound for Istanbul and a new lif. After two years, a Belgian guy lured me into his world, deep in the heart of Europe. For a long time I was an in-process immigrant. One day we married. These days it's about photography, a little red wine and wandering ... and so the journey goes.
Thanks for taking these photos and for the accompanying words. I had never heard of this massacre. it is beyond me how one person can take one life; let alone thousands (millions). It makes me feel helpless and bewildered and very sad.
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