I snarled seeing one little boy hit in the face with a rifle butt. I looked away. Nothing I could do, right? One man, with no more than six shots and ... handful of loose rounds? There was a single voice then. That voice of authority I knew too well. The old man. I heard him trying to use incredibly guttural Italian, then a word or two in English. Then he spoke even a few in German. But they were not words he knew the meaning of. Stupid, out of context, or meaningless words to try and speak with,. *Jasmine and I walked into the restaurant around seven-thirty. Alcohol was already flowing, and several waiters were walking by with finger foods. We each ordered a drink and mingled with the team. We shared stories on plights, frustrations, delight and joy over the course of the nine month project. Jasmine managed to stay close to me throughout the evening. Around ten-thirty the crowd had started to dwindle. Only a few people remained. Jasmine and I sat at a booth alone. The table had. More

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