He shouldn’t have died.
He belonged to the witnesses of forgotten history.
And his life was the memorial of the dead.
He could withstand everything for his own.
It was a matter of justice.
And when the war took place in the old continent he took a direful decision.
The bicoloured sun would fight for the liberation of the victims beyond any ocean limits .
None of his own understood his will.
But they all knew he would be doing the proper.
Because from when he was little , he was talking to them about Humanity.
When he put his uniform on for the first time,he finally looked like the rest .
Only nobody looked like him.
He added the colours of battle.
He was now ready to lift more weights.
Because that’s how he would indicate to the barbarians that he would not back off till he won.
He didn’t measure how long the journey lasted by ship.
It did not matter.
He wanted to get ashore in order to fight all those who were saying that only one colour is correct.
Whatever they thought about colours he just knew that it was wrong.
A broken cross by barbarism could not be a sign of the innocent and the just?
He had learned from the beginning that he would fight beasts of barbarism who did not take any human life into account.
When they arrived, the landscape was so different that it left him speechless.
He walked through an ancient Agora.
And there, he found a blooming lilac.
At the same place he discovered marble bodies.
He did not know that others like him had carved the stones.
To add them to the human memorials.
But now that he saw it, he found out that they were his own as well.