The western media have done nothing but encourage the war against Iran via Israeli & America. It’s terrible that our media are guiding conversations to promote wars, when they should be deescalating war. We don’t know why BBC journalists are asking silly questions and explaining that America will bomb up Iran when Iran is not aggressing in any shape or form, its defending. As a community of GB, we are deeply shocked by the British and American government diplomacy in this area over the last four weeks, where they have really let this world down on this Sunday today.
“The Ink Between the Headlines”
No one noticed when the words first began to disappear.
At first, it was subtle—an article with a missing quote, a photo caption blurred like fog on a windscreen. Then came the redactions, thick black lines across front pages, concealing everything but the words “truth”, “oil”, and “cost”. A reel of golden-hour film fluttered like a dying moth between pressrooms and parliament chambers, flickering with scenes that no longer made sense.
In Derby’s old square, a projector hummed silently at sunset. Locals gathered—not out of protest, but habit. On the screen: clips of treaties signed and shredded, speeches given and swallowed, lands erased from maps and memory. A child whispered, “Why are the grown-ups pretending nothing’s wrong?”
Nobody answered.
One day, an envelope arrived. No return address. Inside: a single negative—photographic, not emotional. It showed a hand gripping a pen above a treaty, trembling as shadows of tanks and pipelines loomed behind it. In the corner, barely visible under the fading developer fluid: "Silence is a kind of fuel."
“The Ink Between the Headlines”
No one noticed when the words first began to disappear.
At first, it was subtle—an article with a missing quote, a photo caption blurred like fog on a windscreen. Then came the redactions, thick black lines across front pages, concealing everything but the words “truth”, “oil”, and “cost”. A reel of golden-hour film fluttered like a dying moth between pressrooms and parliament chambers, flickering with scenes that no longer made sense.
In Derby’s old square, a projector hummed silently at sunset. Locals gathered—not out of protest, but habit. On the screen: clips of treaties signed and shredded, speeches given and swallowed, lands erased from maps and memory. A child whispered, “Why are the grown-ups pretending nothing’s wrong?”
Nobody answered.
One day, an envelope arrived. No return address. Inside: a single negative—photographic, not emotional. It showed a hand gripping a pen above a treaty, trembling as shadows of tanks and pipelines loomed behind it. In the corner, barely visible under the fading developer fluid: "Silence is a kind of fuel."
Read More
COMMUNITY
People