If your blood runs red, go straight ahead. If your blood runs blue, you’re not coming through. Translucent hue, who are you, who are you, who are you? We’d tell you exactly who we are, if only we could, Hassa thought. The words, starting in the throats of the officers, had crawled across the river into the mouths of countless children. A nursery rhyme, they thought. Isn’t that how propaganda starts?
