You think the wall is real. The one between here and there. Us and them. Good and bad. But look closer. That wall is made of your own skin. Built with your own bones. And on the other side? Your own face. Looking back. The child who eats and the child who starves — same hunger. The bomb maker and the buried — same hands. This is, because that is. You are not watching the world. You ARE the world. Seeing itself. Finally.
