Far on the other side of revenge and peace, lies memory. Like an ocean. There you select the conch that you wish to pick out of the deep, past stroring sea, and the one you wish to toss away. Memory is never complete. The past is never one.there is the reminiscence that choose peace. There is the past that pushes you to scream: "We want revenge!" But, we don't know wether revenge was also washed away. For, on the far side of massacre or greetings of peace, lurks memory, which never stands alone