a man, alone in the ruins of his city, wounded, fighting an unwinnable war that began before he was born against an inhuman, machine enemy that views and treats his people as cattle to be rounded up into ghettos and slaughtered. no weapon left but a stick, mans first tool, to throw at the modern and futuristic flying machine of death and destruction, piloted by an unseen enemy far from any danger. at most, all he could hope for was to annoy the drone pilot, but he did it anyway rather than try to hide or flee, or take cover. nothing to do but to spit in satans eye. the indominable human spirit and the stubborn nobility of man vs the inhuman war machine of the zionists. no hope of victory for him may be, but no possibility of defeat either. i can only hope that i have the strength and courage to die with half as much dignity as these palestinian rebels, when my time comes to die.
Indonesia