Once upon a time there was the innocent until proven otherwise.
Ignoring the facts, until a disadvantageous phone tapping came out.
Accountable for them, but times were different, isn’t it?
You cannot judge the past, some say, because you cannot change it.
But you can listen to it.
The swish of the yellowed pages that suffocates under the weight of a confused present, seem to rumble, at a very first glance.
It sounds like astride ravings spoken in a dead language, if you relate it to the simultaneous chatter which, within a click, we condemn the fate of whole peoples with.
However, if you can just tilt the digital hourglass, you could follow the accusing finger that accuses the usual, peaceful coexistence’s serial killer.
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