Photo courtesy of Pedro Sandrini from

This is not your father’s war, nor your father’s father’s war.

This is silence. The silence of a once-crowded street, the silence of a now empty theater, and the silence of desolate office buildings. There are no warning sirens, bombs falling, or buildings burning. There is the deafening silence of handprints, a wave “hello”, “I miss you”, “I’m here” through cold glass windows.