What happened here?
I can barely tell that war once ravaged this pristine landscape. Every so often I come across a crater, a stray shard of incongruous metal, a bone, bleached and half buried. Something terrible and unfathomable happened here, not too long ago, but for the life of me, I can't say what. The sun shines, the flowers are in full bloom. Small birds bathe themselves in shallow pools of water in the pockmarked plains, oblivious to the lingering aftertaste of past horrors that hangs in the air.
I don't claim to understand the half-formed tales of those who fought here. They don't make much sense anymore, clouded as they are by memory and stale terror. Perhaps I don't even want to know what transpired here. Perhaps it's better that I don't.
All the better to enjoy the serenity that surrounds me.