Didn’t matter.
Because somewhere beneath all the noise of modern life, beneath politics and appearance and reputation and cynicism, there remains this ancient human instinct:
The small must be protected.
Even at cost.
Especially at cost.
I keep thinking about the moment before they moved.
Five motorcycles stopping on the shoulder.
Five men looking over a guardrail.
The sound of children screaming from inside twisted metal.
There had to be half a second — maybe less — where each of them understood the danger.
The slope.
The unstable bus.
The fuel.
The possibility the whole thing could collapse.
And still not one of them stayed up top.
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