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I write for the ones without a voice.

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Schindler's List.
I decided to watch this. You can guess why, why now, why in these recent times.

There's a lot I should say. I can't. Not here. So it has to go in my writing, into books.

I held in my anger until the movie was over. I checked the politics headlines online. They were mostly the same since I had checked them before the film started. Reading these headlines after the movie helped to put them all into perspective even more. I read them, I read the articles every day. I don't stop paying attention. I don't look away.

...I still remember watching The Pianist in middle school. A bunch of my classmates screamed and covered their eyes to avoid seeing the man in the wheelchair get pushed out of the window when (not because) he couldn't stand up.

I didn't look away then.

I didn't look away this time, either.

I'm an artist, not a skilled worker. I would have been thrown away back then. I think about that every time I see these headlines about what happened last weekend. There are other links, of course. This is the one that punctures me most because it's more universal.

Universality in oppression and subjugation.

There's more power in restraint.

Pardon us artists, by the sun.

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