a sixteen year old boy out with his girlfriend in kings cross, the seedy part of sydney some say, where the nightclubs are, where the sex shops sit between pizza joints and strip clubs, it's the backpacker nexus, scantly clad girls roam the streets looking for action, drunken males revel in neon shadows and nights out with their friends, it's a strange place, not a beautiful place, after dark.
about ten o clock, way before the madness sets in, way before the deranged alcohol effected are prowling for the next level in banality something happens, not even a street hassle, not a conflict just an act of mindless violence and absolute horror. a man just punched the kid in the face and runs away. 
the boy is rushed to hospital, he's just left kings school, he's in kings cross and he's king hit, in a coma, his parents turn the machine off the next day on doctors advice. the perpetrator gets away, slips into the crowd and disappears. 
i'm watching this unfold on the news, the parents are just devastated but they make an appeal, the mother is pale and obviously in shock, the father just breaks your heart. i cried my eyes out. couldn't stop, how elegantly the man spoke, how poised and compassionate he appeared, acknowledging he was still in the denial phase, he pleaded for the attacker to come forth and confess, he said, 'i know deep down in your soul you need to do this,' just so quietly pleading humanity, like a whisper to the man that murdered his son.
i felt ashamed, inadequate and selfish. part of me just wanted to hug these poor people, this family, strangers, his sister spoke a few words and then broke down, and i looked at the picture of the young kid, just a babe, his room had a drum kit and a guitar, and his last words to both his mum and dad, 'i love you.'
broke my heart, just really got to me.