The clipped articles and texts sprawled on my table seem to depict some cruel Brother's Grimm fable. Power engorged politicals fit the world with a noose. Spawning compliance, a quasi Ministry of Truth. Who dares wait 'till the settled dust, for the backlash to rain down on us? When nations long oppressed and scared do what few zealots have yet dared. When the curtain goes down for the last bow, when eternity arrives to sow, will the wool fall from our eyes, or are we blind to our own genocide?