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People always find a way to justify their hate—and give others an excuse to fall in line. They put words in people’s mouths, plant them like viruses, then watch them spread.
There are posters, too, tacked up all over, urging us to see our occupiers as friends. As if we can’t feel them steadily tightening their grip around our throats.
“We’re all a collection of our stories, chérie. Our joys and sorrows. Our loves and losses. That is who we are, a tally of all our agonies and ecstasies. Sometimes
