The world is in turmoil right now, some parts more than others.
In France, the wounds are raw and wide open; in the UK the wounds have scabbed over but are still tender and red around the edges.
In Syria, canon fire is taking off limbs – with no one to help staunch the bleeding.
But we are understandably still pretty gun shy.
Each country has its own personal pain.
In the madness that is extremism, it only takes one to carry out terrorist acts – leaving a bloody trail of what were, to him, nameless strangers who were guilty for no other reason than they were there.
We are repulsed at the callousness and insanity of it all.
What causes someone to become that way?