Once, in the home of a Filipino, I was served soup with the head of a fish

floating in the middle, the eye staring up as in a pile of the dead in

Auschwitz, the center of the eye forming a question mark asking, Why me? Why am

I here? What have I done to earn this infamous plight? The eye not only sees, it tells you

about surprise, shock, fear, anguish and pain. You can still see love, but not happiness or humor.

The eye has seen too much, not enough. Questions are answered, questions remain.

In the end humanity consumes fish consumes humanity.