Once upon a time, a hall swelled to massive proportions to fit a representation of political borders. In a gesture of humanitarian appreciation, a document was embroidered with rationally selected words. The declaration was highly regarded by the jailers of humanity, who had been persisting in convincing their followers to forfeit their freedom to think. They littered pavements with copies of the document, insisting that the concept of human rights went beyond the realm of necessity. There came another once upon a time, where humanity was categorised into civilians and civilians, depending on the stain of oil and the cry for intervention. In another ravaged land, a memory was tantamount to conspiracy and the people seated in the massive hall treated the lacerations with the dignity that accompanies a cacophony of words devoid of any significance. Protection, safeguarding, humanitarian aid ... All became subservient to propaganda, anointed to their privileged status by the idiotic applause of the class that was always right.