Red Bubble

Losing a child in any capacity is difficult in any situation. When that child is lost during a senseless battle in Afghanistan things tend to stick around. There is nothing like the horrific memories that grip on to you so tight and play like a black and white Nickelodeon rerun deep within the contoured recesses of your mind that causes so much grief, pain and anguish you come to the realization you either paint or die. This is my interpretation of the innocent lives lost in a valley in the middle of shit-hole nowhere in Afghanistan.

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