Life is like a parade across New York on the 4th. All the streamers of self-accentuated freedom, believed we’ve earned so far. The radiant sunshine smiling down for us as we celebrate and rejoice for the Divine Providence has given us such a blessing of self-accomplishment. We all line-up facing one direction; we smile, we laugh, we feel secure for being one with the crowd.
Those banners that scream our race’s supremacy on how we destroy and mutilate this Earth. The A-bombs all stashed up at big brotha’s backyard, drugs we inject in our veins throbbing with artificial components; time bombs just waiting to blow-up and shoot us all down to hell. There’s MR. Asterisk grimacing down at us seeing how twisted our sense of happ(y)ness is: the right to judge a person’s soul just by looking at; how she dresses, what she looks like, where she eats, the thickness of her purse, her roots, her being. As we all laugh in chorus at her puny existence, you feel a sense of hollowness within; a sense of fear lurks around the corner because you feel that, that false sense of security – once faut en premier – now crumbling down like the Berlin Wall – once dividing East from West Germany, bonded by blood fragmented by affiliation – and as you decide to stop laughing and start asking questions you automatically become the tragic hero of this little fiasco. Verstehen.


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