Watamelon is the perfect metaphor, in many ways, to our own situation.
She appears in various places, all over the world, all throughout time, with no effort at all. Incredible right? Just like us, really; with the click of a button, we can view any piece of art, any historical, in the blink of an eye. With hardly lifting a finger, we are, like Watamelon, able to be anywhere, see anything. That is life on the internet, the joy of the modern world.
But she is powerless to act. She has no arms, only legs. She is only a silent observer; all she can do is go from one thing to the next. She cannot interact with the things she sees, she is powerless to prevent tragedies that have long since happened even though she may revisit them time and time again. Having been exposed to suffering and terror and gloom unlike any of our ancestors could have been outside a dictator's meat grinder every night on the evening news (Aloe's harassment, Coco's graduation, a thousand atrocities reported every day before the late-night shows come on), we are like Watamelon
We observe; we comment. We carry on. We cannot do much else.
And like her, we find there is no point in being sad. An unintrusive, warmly welcomed smugness descends upon us. To worry about things we cannot change would drive us mad - but still we are driven to see them, to wonder. To silently observe. And then move on. There is so much to see, after all, even if you cannot touch.
