Summertime

literally just shut the fuck up

Saint Petersburg in the evening is quite the treat for the eyes. The sun wraps itself in beautiful fabrics of red, orange, yellow, and pink, while the hum of the street calms to a song specifically for those late to dinner. It's almost perfect, except for the current ambience of sound that differs from its normal state, disturbed by a verbal altercation concerning the ethics of sending young men to die systematically in heaps.

I'm not entirely sure where the discussion came from. I believe the two boys struck up conversation on the street, sifted through various topics, and eventually came to a halt on this one -- this unfortunate subject. Nevertheless, I am sure that it's becoming more and more fueled as it goes on. It's escalating higher by the second, and I'm scared for the climax.

On one side of the debate, there is a boy that I've seen around but have never talked with. Anatole, the only person that chooses to be around me so often, says that he's trouble, a real hothead with strong opinions that could get him into a serious mess. Because I don't like him, I have no qualms about saying that he's pretty ugly, with a nose that sticks out too far and teeth that he never tends to, even though he's the financially stable one and should be able to afford some dental hygiene products. His stance is that war is necessary in order to achieve a country's goals, and that we should skip straight to it when we need to solve.

On the other side of the debate, there is a boy of a slightly older age that I've never seen before. His Russian is very good, which I only bring up because I detect the slightest of accents that I can identify as French from the babble I've heard from Russian nobles passing by where I usually rest on the street. His stance is that war should not exist as long as there are words to negotiate a solution to the problem, and that using people's sons and fathers and husbands is unethical. Although I've never met him, my opinion lies with his, and it's not just because I want to spite the other guy.

Both sides are heated with anger, each believing that the other person is unbelievably ignorant and has no idea how the human psyche functions when presented with difficult situations. However, the pro-war boy looks distressed and as if he's on the brink of having a stroke, meanwhile the anti-war boy's anger stems from his passion about solving matters ethically and effectively, without mass carnage, and his facts are justified. The other boy, not so much.

"You can't possibly believe that there is no room for negotiation before we launch ourselves into destruction," the anti-war guy claims, one hand placed on his hip and the other suspended and poised towards his opponent, which really showcases his exasperation.

The anti-war guy's argument about having room for negotiation before clumsily throwing oneself into destruction should be a common truth, yet his opponent continues to baffle me with his imbecility as he persists. "War leaves an impression. If we destroy our enemy, they'll know not to mess with us again."

"If we destroy our enemy, there will be no one left to do anything at all!" The man is so frustrated that he forces himself to look away for a moment, but it only lasts for the brief period of time when his opponent isn't dripping bullshit out of his mouth. It doesn't take much time for that to happen.

"Isn't that the goal?"

The anti-war guy's previous pose returns. He shifts his head back to the pro-war fool ever so slowly. You can tell that this recent comment has rendered him beyond furious. "So you don't even want other countries to help your own?"

"If we tear them down, we can take whatever we want from them."

"What you're taking by doing that is actually thousands of innocent lives! These people could've been wonderful scientists, artists, or at least have had their lives to themselves, not ripped away from them by decisions they have no say in from men who think they know best, from men who think no opposing country means no problem so the only resolution is to decimate them." A curtain of rose is pulled across the man's usually perfect face, matching the sunset. His voice can be heard all throughout Saint Petersburg, or so it seems. He cares a lot about this topic. I wonder what made him this way.