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  • The colors were gone, drained from view. Nothing would be, could be, dared be shared during a time when sharing was no longer free.

    From the view we had, up on the highest branch of the giving tree, linking arms together in order to stay in our loft above, we could see far. Yet still above loomed the tower of elephant tusks, far higher than we could climb together, for the air was no longer pure when breathed in so high.

    Blackness now sank over us, our hearts heavy with the memories of a time when ideas flowed as fast if not faster than the light that once gave birth to new ideas and new expression. We were told that the dark ages were over; they were a distant time now, torch light was unreliable but our modern tools would keep the hallways lit and the climb up would not be so lonely.

    Now, we are lost. Lost without a view, only darkness and crossbars blocking the links that joined us together long ago. Our senses remained while we remained censored; freedom is merely an illusion and solely the whim of the conglomerate. The mogul sipped his tea, his voice was free to silence the voices of others. It was a bitter brew.
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