hey! little mohammed, where`s your riot gear? did you forget all your body armour? i`ll forgive you for spilling your secret through your hands. you know that i`d do anything to change our places, share your feelings. and hey, major neave, what`s that weight on your shoulder? could it be the cumulative weight of history? herculean, i will share your burden, though i might forfeit my digital watches. so heed this western plea, this suburban disease, this teenage wail, this middle class call. i want to get shot at by an israeli gun squad (and take a ride through the ruins in 1945). hellas, you had it wrong. to know our selves we need everything in excess. so i go now to dip my toe into the waters of extremity. how fast can i swim at the barrel of a gun, at the point of a question? so hey! here`s to petersburg in 1917, and here`s to forging paths in barcelona. here`s to knowing our thoughts are making a difference. i`d rather be a spanish veteran than some hippy kid. and so i question the non-participational definition of animation. here`s to no holding back on the things that we wish for.
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