“So you would restrict artwork?” Declan asks me. “Censor it?” He nods his head at Ezra’s Judith I and the Head of Holofernes Klimt tattoo—Ezra blinks at Declan with a blank face, still half-asleep. “It isn’t exactly moral to cut someone’s head off. Should that piece never have been created?” I shake my head. “No, but there’s a line.” “What line is that?” “A line that could hurt people.” “Hurt people?” “Yes. Propaganda against different races, illustrations depicting groups of humans as lesser than others.
