Although some comrades have fallen, Pride has managed to make things a little more colourful again. Maybe that’s because perspectives are changing; things don’t seem that black and white anymore.
Take the detention camp down the street; I pass that pile of trash bags regularly to watch their behaviour in daily life and I have to be honest, they don’t seem that aggressive.
Actually, they seem downright lethargic. Engaged in a game of pickup, most of them just flop over each other like dirty hippies:
No wonder they’re so out of shape!
As the War gets more complex and information becomes muddled, I’m starting to wonder how much of a threat they really are. Maybe they’re just puppets of the 416/79 light infantry. Mushy, stinky puppets.
I wonder if they feel loss the same way we do, if they express their grief and sorrow just like us:
(yup, more Pride stuff)
Where was I going with this again? Oh yeah; grief and sorrow just like us. I wonder if they love and hate like we do, raise children, grow old, have to keep putting up with incessant TV shoots in their neighbourhoods:
I’ll admit it; I’m confused.
Who’s Being Erica, and why is she in the middle of my War reportage? Maybe after the War correspondence desk gets some shut eye will it make more sense. Maybe after some sleep will the War correspondence desk will stop referring to himself as a desk in the third person.