Writers Envy

1984 came and left; people wondered at the hullabaloo. As it turned out, 1984 was only a prophecy of the brave new world to come, an inferno that we’re entering now.

We wanted a republic, but we’ve built an animal farm ruled by self-righteous pickpockets in a world where the temperature creeps ever closer to Fahrenheit 451, a degree of oppression not yet witnessed in this world, and a metamorphosis that will render every freedom-loving person a plague, whose every personal choice becomes crime, and punishment is meted out from those possessing a heart of darkness, a world where fear and loathing replace hope and love.

I fear for whom the bell tolls: it tolls for thee, and me.

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