This book is dedicated to the children all over the world, who are the casualtis of war. The book urges children not to loose hope for or joy in life. It also warnes against the production of landmines, which have so often killed or maimed children.

 

«Children's voices raised in laughter chasing feet… faster… faster. There in the stones a shiny treasure, new, strange, a shape to uncover. Strange the black butterfly, heavy, cold, so beautiful, mine! Back to the village, breathing hard, “Come see… look what I've found!� Amazement and wonder, this magical thing, a treasure to hoard, a prize to win. magical thing. Black butterfly, why dont' you fly? Here we go, I'll throw you on high! In the bright sunlight I see you shine, but you don't fly, you fall to the ground…

 

Tumult vortex, red hot pain, black death… I don't understand… my eyes… can't see… I awake in pain, where am I now? Let me play, I want to go out. But when I look down… it all becomes clear. Black butterfly, a traditor I held dear. How can I run full of joy, without my leg… what can I play?
Children's voices raised in laughter chasing feet… faster… faster. Abu watches and closing his eyes runs in the wind of his mind…»