Closing Pandora's Box

On Monday, I have immunity and infection lectures in the afternoon from 13.30-16.30 / 17.00. This week’s lectures were 2; mucosal immunology and the second one was on something to do with bacterial infections and investigating them. Half way through the first lecture I was overcome by sleep and it required an elbowing from Furbeed to wake me up. The second lecture was actually pretty useless so I took out The Times 2 crossword and for the first time ever (in recent days), the great minds of Furbeed and I solved the whole thing:

We started approximately 10 minutes into the second lecture and finished about 10 minutes before the end. The lecture was just over an hour long, so do the maths and work out how much time we spent on it. We started doing the code word on the right, but stopped when the lecture ended.

Because of my sleeping and doing crosswords in lectures I have a mountain of work to do. I have 2 essays to write for the end of the month (still need to read the original research articles and do some background work too), finish my dissertation for next month, and revise for exams. My first exam is in early May, and looking at the amount of work I have left myself, it makes me want to cry. Well not really. I’ve made myself a revision timetable and if I stick to that, I should hopefully be able to get everything done well in time.

In terms of blogging, I have started 3 posts, but haven’t got round to finishing any of them. As for blog reading, I read nearly every single blob blog people write, but don’t always comment due to the hectic rush that I seem to always be in now-a-days. Forgive me!

It’s about time I read my posts on the value of time, my new years resolutions and actually acted on them. Anyway, back to dissertation writing. *Yawn*

[This is a scheduled post]

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Title: Survivor – Destiny’s Child
Picture 1, showing completed crossword from personal photography.

This post I initially started writing back in February. Today I thought I’d sit down and just get it done.

*****

Her: My granddad is ill, and the doctors have said he’s about to die.
Me: I’m really sorry to hear that.
Her: I don’t want him to die ;(
Me: Everyone has to die some time. Maybe it’s just his time. Maybe he’s waiting for you give him permission to go.
Her: But I don’t care. I’ll miss him so much.
Me: You’d rather he suffer?
Her: ;(
Me: Has anyone told him what the doctors have said?
Her: No. We didn’t think it would be good for him.
Me: Why not? He knows he’s ill, maybe it would be better if he be told everything. At least that way he could start to prepare.
Her: But I don’t want him to go!

~ Sometime in late January

*****

Him: I’m sorry I’m late.
Me: Don’t worry about it. I’ve only had to deal with a hugely long queue, do so much washing up, and anyway, you’re always late so it doesn’t really matter. But why are you late?
Him: *shakes head* My cousin passed away in the morning.
Me: Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that man. What happened if you don’t mind me asking?
Him: He was sitting there with his family. And just started having a fit. Before anything could be done, he was gone.
Me: That’s horrible. How old was he?
Him: Only 16.
Me: Damn. Only started his life as well. And then this happens.
Him: He was an only child too. His parents were so distraught.
Me: *I thought of Charley, she too was an only child. Her parents were left in such a bad state after she passed away* I can only imagine. It must be so hard on them.
Him: And you know what it makes me think? What’s the point of it all? What’s the point of life? And God? Only 16.
Me: I know. It must have been just so unexpected. When was the last time you saw him?
Him: Ummm about 6 months ago. No Christmas, so 3 months ago.
Me: Life’s such a bitch sometimes. Were you guys close?
Him: Yeah sort of. He used to look up to me as a role model. Do things I did etc etc. But damn it really makes you wonder.
Me: Yeah reminds you just how unexpected the future can be, and just how mortal we are. Would you like a hug?

~ Last week

*****

When I started my training for working at the hospice, along with the introductory pack we were also given a list of books that we might find worthwhile reading. Among them was a book that I posted a quote from before. I got this book from the library in November and finished reading it a few days ago. The book I am referring to is Intimate Death: How the dying teach us to live. This book is, I can honestly say, amazing. Marie De Hennezel takes us on a short journey to meet with terminally ill patients, many of whom initially wish to end their lives. That is, until they meet Hennezel. During their meetings with her, and the love, affection and concern she shows allows them to discover something deep within themselves, a hidden strength, a hidden desire to live another day, week, or month.

The book is extremely inspiring; full of accounts of people who, in some cases due to no fault of their own, are condemned to live a life of very few days. There was one patient in particular who, despite being unable to move at all except her eye lids and one finger, was full of life and wanted to live. Daniele is young (early 20’s I think. I forgot to write down her age) and suffers from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis¹, a neurodegenerative disease caused by degeneration of the motor neurons. Motor neurons, for those of you who are not familiar with them, are the nerves that control all our voluntary movement. This includes smiling, talking, moving your body parts etc. Her condition is so severe that she relies on others to turn her head after a while to prevent her from swallowing her own tongue and choking on it. The only voluntary control she has is the movement of her eye lids and the ability to move one of her fingers. It is with this finger that she communicates with the world through a type writer. There are many moving scenes with her, but I want to share just 2 of them with you.

*****

Daniele is laboriously picking out the letters on the screen. I bend over to look. In this position, half-lying on the bed beside her, we are very close. She says that makes her feel good.

She always wanted to be given lots of love, and now she is getting it in abundance. But it is so difficult to receive it. She talks about her family’s love, and that of her friends and those who take care of her, as “a fountain from which she doesn’t know how to drink,” and she adds, “Perhaps you have to learn to become a little child again, humble enough to accept the gift.”

And this is not easy, because Daniele was the absolute opposite: she loved to give egotistically. Knowing how to receive requires abandoning oneself, letting go, an attitude dramatically opposed to the way she’s always been. Will her current journey lead her to explore this fallow ground?

“What kind of journey is illness dragging us through?” She often refers to this idea of a journey. For her, the whole idea of going forward, of moving, is primordial. How can she live in her paralysis except by moving psychologically?

Fine-tuned and intelligent, she has decided to take up the challenge of this illness. “I can tell you my weapons: Avoid all comparisons with the past and learn to live this as a particularly long and difficult passage. You see, I don’t know how many years the ordeal will last, but there are difficult lessons, and they need time.”

Sometimes Daniele cries. But tears run down her face, which undo us.

“I didn’t let the emotion out before, but now that my virus has taken my speech and my muscles, I can’t keep it in anymore.”

She writes about just how difficult it is to be there without voice and without movement.²

Movement as well as talking is one of the most primitive of things. We don’t even think about moving, it just happens. Can you imagine life without it?

*****

Baths for bed-ridden patients. Daniele is given a bath:

I wait for the staff to get her into bed and finish what they have to do before I go to her. She’s relaxed, bright-eyed, ready to write.

“Being washed can be like a party – lots of sweet smells, massage that makes you feel like you’re being caressed, peals of conspiratorial laughter.” And then: “Talking about pleasure, how could I never have noticed that moving is one of them? Will I ever get it back, or will it always be a matter of some kind of complicated exercise? Movement is the most primitive pleasure there is – you have to undergo such ordeals to find treasures you never dreamed of.”

When I left Daniele, all I wanted to do was go and run barefoot in the grass like a mad thing. Get drunk on movement! I took my car and went to the park at Sceaux. It was warm, and I realized that the days were getting longer. On the big lawn in front of the castle, I took the most immense pleasure in running, spinning in circles, feeling the warm, damp earth under my feet, and I said thank you to life and to Daniele for such a conscious flash of pure joy.³

*****

This book taught me a lot. It taught me the importance of living. Daniele’s example especially was heart-rendering. Despite being able to do very little, she still enjoyed life. Yes there were periods when her disability left her drowning in tears she was unable to wipe away, but even then, her positivity was awe-inspiring.

Many people are scared to break bad news to extremely ill loved ones because they are afraid the effect it would have may be detrimental. ‘We think we’re protecting the person who’s dying , but aren’t we first and foremost trying to protect ourselves? What do we know of the innermost feelings of the dying? Do we not underestimate their capacity to face things squarely?’⁴

For anyone who feels they have forgotten how to live, this book will show you just how great life can be and how much we take for granted. I would honestly recommend it to each and every person, because death is something all of us have to face. This book will just make it a wee bit easier understanding it and give you the ability to aid the dying.

We can’t escape death, but we can live while we have the chance. ‘Spend the afternoon. You can’t take it with you’.⁵

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Title: If I die young – The Band Perry
Picture 1, showing running barefoot on the grass taken from here
¹More information about ALS can be found here
²Intimate Death: How the dying teach us to live, pages 121-122
3Intimate Death: How the dying teach us to live, page 123
⁴Intimate Death: How the dying teach us to live, page 13
⁵Annie Dillard

I was going through the documents on my old computer and came across this piece of writing I once did for English. This was back in year 8, that is when I was 13…

*****

THE URBAN JUNGLE

What type of a name for a city is London? I still can’t believe my parents sent me here.

“David,” they said, “you’ll love it.” Well have I got news for them. I don’t love it, I don’t even like it. I love playing all summer with my friends over the great green grassy plains. But most of all, I love exploring the jungle. I knew the jungle really well. How am I supposed to get used to all this foul air? Tough luck you might say, I have 6 whole weeks to get used to it. 6 weeks!

Here I am in a flat with my cousin who does nothing but sit in front of the television which consumes most of his time. His room is littered with pizza boxes, coke cans lying around the bin and dirty socks, all adding to the distinct smell of the Logan‘s household.

“David,” Lee shouted between mouthfuls of fries, “Superman’s new film is on. Don’t you wanna watch it?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m going out" I replied walking out and rolling my eyes.

Outside, the cold crisp morning air blew past me carrying with it leaves that rustled in its footsteps. All was quiet except for the sweet birdsong. I stood listening to the unexplainable beauty that God had created. But it wasn’t like the beauty you would find in the countryside. Suddenly my body stiffened. My eyes fell upon the tall buildings pumping dirty smoke into the virgin morning. Man was destroying the beauty which God had created, for nothing but to quench his own greed. The cars, the electricity guzzling lights on every shop front, and the filthy chimneys piercing the clean morning sky with their towering turrets. The jungle where I was from was different. The jungle was a labyrinth of dense forest and tangled vegetation. It was silent, except for the background murmur of little insects, buzzing and clicking. When the day began, you could hear the birds singing their hymns and the tigers come out and prowl through the vegetation looking for food.

A police car went by, prowling just like a tiger. It was hungry and saw what it wanted. Food. Having not eaten for days the chances of the prey getting away were slim. The blue lights came on. The siren began to howl. When the tiger comes out, the other animals move out of the way due to fear. In the same way, when any car heard the siren, they made way for the police car.

Then, a loud, polluting truck rambled by. I felt guilt. But more overwhelming was the feeling of anger. Man had made things that would destroy the beauty Mother Earth had to offer. What for? Greed, selfishness and money. As the birds flew away and the exhaust fumes made their way into my cold, red nose I looked around and pondered over the man made things around me. The technology, the transport, the buildings, everything. Yes it was wonderful. But when this same technology and advancement endangers the life of a fellow living species, it not wonderful at all. It would be better if this technology didn’t exist.

How difficult would it be telling your grandchildren what elephants looked like and why they were no longer there. Would it not be embarrassing to have to say the elephants were killed because man wanted to use its tusks to make rings and other ornaments? After a while the coolness of the morning settled my anger. I walked back home where I found Lee still sitting in front of the television. Maybe this box with moving pictures is not that bad after all. I had 6 weeks to spend in this place, why not make the most of the speaking box and foul air. Tough.

*****

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a tree hugger or anything but the state of the environment sometimes worries me. Here’s a documentary starring ex-president Al Gore, in which he highlights the issue of global warming:

An inconvenient truth

Where do you stand on this whole issue? Is caring for the environment important? Or should we just live while we can, and enjoy it as much as we can?

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Title: Black moon – Emerson, Lake and Palmer
Picture 1, showing elephants in a city taken from here
Picture 2, showing a polar bear on a retreating glacier taken from here

In my post on Friday, I mentioned I was going on a trip to Paris. In the end, after a ‘family meeting’, we decided to go to Belgium instead, to a place with the unpronounceable name of Brugge. I can pronounce it, but the variations I’ve heard go from Brugga, Bruggie (brother’s bogie) to Bruggay. I can’t phonetically write it because I just don’t know how to put the sound into letters. Anyway, this is how the day went.

*****

We were meant to leave the house at 7.45am, so that we’d make it in time to catch the ferry from Dover. It was 7.30 when my eyes opened and I realised the whole house was still covered snuggly by sleep’s blanket. I was slumped on the sofa with a book that had now ended up on the floor. DAMN! I must’ve fallen asleep after reading morning prayers. All I could remember was going to bed too early, but not knocking out till much much later, waking up to pray, grabbing a book to read and then nothing. It wasn’t long before the whole house was awake and the toilet line became too long. I smiled to myself. I don’t think there has ever been a time when we, as a family have managed to get ready and leave to go somewhere on time. When we finally got ready and had everything packed the time was 8.45am. It had been raining all night, but we weren’t going to let a little bit of water dampen our spirits.

The plan was to drive from London to Dover, catch a ferry from there to Calais (France) and then drive to Brugge.

With dad hurtling down the M20 towards Dover, it was no surprise we got there well in time. So early in fact that we had to wait at the port for approximately half an hour. Dad knew our record of never being ready on time and so purposely told us we would be leaving at 7.45am just so that we would ‘hurry up’ a little. The sun had come out, and you could tell the little ones were excited; my brother wouldn’t stop farting. It was time to board the ferry.

We drove onto the ferry, parked the car and ran up onto the deck. I think we were meant to take our seats first because we missed all the initial safety instructions regarding what to do in an emergency. Who cares? Dear God, please let us have a safe journey. K thanks bye. The boat finally started moving and the hair blowing (literally) journey across the English Channel had begun.

“What’re you looking at?”

The beautiful white cliffs of Dover getting further…

…and further away

The closer we got to Calais, the harder the wind blew and the darker the clouds became. My hair felt like it was going to blow away any minute. Luckily however, it stopped for a few seconds allowing me to take a picture with the one and only little bro and the little sis.

As we entered the port of Calais…

…the little brother called over some of his mates.

Little Sister: What are all those seagulls doing?
Littler Brother: I think they must have sniffed out my farts.

Amidst ominous grey skies we disembarked from the ferry and were shocked to find that Europe drives on the wrong side of the road.

[End of part 1]

*****

The rest of the day’s adventures will be posted soon and then you can hear all about chocolate cock(rel)s, church services, boat rides and the pretty lady at Pizza Hutt.

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Title: Come sail away – Styx
All photographs were from personal photography except for the map which was taken from Google maps.

‘Cause if you take your vitamins and pay your taxes and never cut the line, the universe still gives you people to love but lets them slip through your fingers like water. And then what are you left with? Vitamins and nothing.¹

 

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Title: Dream catch me – Newton Faulkner
¹Grey’s Anatomy – Season 7, episode 16; Not responsible.

It’s Friday morning afternoon, I have work to do but really can’t be bothered. I’m sitting here with The General talking about all sorts of random stuff. What? You wanna hear? Okay…here’s a collection of some of the things that have happened over the last week or so.

Friday 18^th

A week after my actual birthday we all decided to have a birthday lunch for me and another loveeeeeeely person. A joint birthday you could say. So I ordered my chicken and ate. It tasted alright at the time but by the evening however I was starting to feel a little off. Saturday morning, I woke and had to run to the toilet, an act I would be repeating all day. All of Saturday I had that weird feeling the pit of my stomach which comes just before you want to puke. After having dinner, I drank some water and that tipped the balance. Luckily I made it to the toilet in time to empty the contents of my stomach (through both ways). I was vomiting all of Saturday night, and bits of Sunday as well. . Bad times.

*****

Sunday 20^th

We were sitting down eating dinner, my siblings and I. My brother started singing:

Brother: *singing* In my head, I see you…¹
Sister: *singing* I hear you in my ears and you can’t sing…so shutup. And I know I can’t either, so I’ll shut up too.

My brother ended the whole incident by throwing a mattar (pea) at her.

*****

Monday 21^st

I was telling the General about just how bad I had been feeling over the weekend, and he replied by saying:

The General: Guys were doing you both ways and you just couldn’t handle it.

Then later, while talking of his own bad stomach near the end of the day, the following was said:

The General: I feel your pain down there..
Me: Ewww…dude I didn’t cause you any pain down there.

*****

Wednesday 23^rd

It was just after stem cell lectures, The General, Dummer (AKA Black Dick) and I were sitting in a base room doing very little.

Me: I know someone with 11 siblings.
Dummer: I know someone that had 89 kids.
Me: OMG! 89? No way?
General: No way!
Dummer: 8 or 9.
Me:  I thought you said 89 for a second, was gonna say. Now it makes more sense.
General: I know someone with 15.
Dummer: They must’ve been at it for a good 15 years, one after the other.
General: Yeah they were Bengali.
Dummer: The Bengali women just lay there and a fish comes along.
Me: Haha! What the hell? I know Bengalis and fish are quite intimate, but having babies with fish. *rolls eyes*
Dummer: Imagine if Bengalis made hentai, the fish would be the lead characters.

We don’t just talk  all rubbish, we discuss a bit of science as well. The conversation continued and ended up on AIDs:

Dummer: Man had sex with a monkey, that’s how AIDs came about.
General: It actually bit him. And it’s possible the rhesus strain of SIV is very similar to HIV.
Dummer: Sounds much cooler to say he had sex with it, and HIV can’t transfer orally.
General: It can, through the…
Dummer: Yeah but it’s really rare. That guy told us in yesterday’s lecture…Robin Shattock, I think he knows a lot more about HIV than any of us.
Me: AIDs is spread much more rapidly through mucosal surfaces such as the vagina, where dendritic cells pick up the virus and transfer them to lymph nodes.
Dummer: Say you were speaking to someone, how would you know they had HIV?
Me: At the end of this degree you can walk around with a HIV testing kit, if there is such a thing. And if someone wants to mug you, just be like ‘I have AIDs and am not afraid to use it’.
Dummer: And you squirt it in their mouth… If you get what I’m saying.
Me: Ah man that’s disgusting!

*****

Thursday 24^th

I happened to lose my house and locker keys on Wednesday and so was worried all day on Thursday. While walking past my locker at the end of the day, I saw my keys dangling there, still inside the lock. You’re allowed to say what an idiot. But only if you can do it with a Jamaican accent.

Rosaline: (text) Guests are here. Just roasted myself in the kitchen . x
Me: (text) Did you marinate first? Though to be honest, I’d prefer you raw. x

That sounds a lot worse than it’s meant to / was intended to. Am I allowed to explain what I actually meant when I said that? No? Hmph. Okay.

*****

Friday 25^th

The General talks about wives a lot and about how he would steal my wife, just before we were to get married. Maybe it’s to do with the fact I really annoy him about being gay and liking BMWs. If you don’t know what a BMW is, let me just tell you I’m not referring to cars. I was thinking about adding a picture of one for a second, but it’s not appropriate. How can I not think he’s gay when he says stuff like:

General: How do I find that happy and stress free person I used to be?
Me: I guess he’s still there, just sleeping. You just gotta wait for him to wake up.
General: Yeah sleeping with other guys!

And when he started on my future wife and marriage popped up he said:

General: I’ll bring you along when I buy my wedding saris…

Can I tell them what you do at weddings?

*****

Hope you all have a lovely, relaxing and fun weekend. What are your plans? I’m off to Paris . Jealous much? And I know I’m really behind on blog reading and comment-backing. Will get to that soon.

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Title: A song we used to sing in primary school assemblies.
¹In my head – Jason Derulo.
Picture 1 – Showing Tuileres Garden, Paris taken from here.

Rewind the calendars back to 1605 and in particular the 5^th of November, a day that has become engraved in British history as Bonfire Night. Many remember it as the day of the Gunpowder Plot, which if it had succeeded would have blown the Houses of Parliament sky high. But what was the reason for it?

In the 1530’s / 1540’s Henry VIII broke away from Rome and made himself head of the English Church. This was the beginning of many decades of religious intolerance, in which Catholics faced much persecution. The country became divided in 2; the Catholics and the Protestants. To combat this increasing divide, Henry’s daughter Queen Elizabeth I made the rule that anyone appointed to a public station or a place in the Church had to pledge allegiance to the monarch as the head of the Church and state. Anyone refusing do so faced severe penalties; fines, imprisonment and or execution. Catholics suffered greatly under this regime and despite the threat of torture and execution many continued to practice their faith in secret.

When Elizabeth died, she left behind no successor to the throne, and refused to name an heir. Mary, Queen of Scots (Elizabeth’s cousin), who was a Catholic had been executed for treason in 1587 and many people thought that her son James VI of Scotland had a strong claim to the English throne. When he became king in 1603 many Catholics thought their fortunes would change. Initially that is how it was, James relaxed the laws put in place by Elizabeth. As numbers of religious demands grew James became highly displeased at the increasing strength of the Catholics. In such a situation, the king, in an attempt to accommodate as many views as possible, expressed his ‘utter detestation’ of Catholicism and once again the country entered an age of hostility against Catholics.

Remember remember the fifth of November
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder, treason
Should ever be forgot…

It was because of this religious persecution that a few Catholic men decided to blow up parliament. Approximately 36 barrels of gun powder were placed under the building. But before the plan could be executed, an anonymous letter was handed to the king that contained the details of the plot. A search was carried out of all the cellars in the palace, and Guy Fawkes was discovered with the gunpowder.¹

*****

I was speaking to Bubblegum a few weeks back and she reminded me of a film that is based around the concept of the gunpowder plot. It is set in the futuristic landscape of fascist England, where the country is full of torture cells, unfair / disproportionate punishments, prejudice against minorities and censors on everything that happens, and on everything that is done or said which may have negative repercussions on the ruling party. The film begins with the explosion of the Old Bailey (the Central Criminal Court in England), in particular the statue of Justice, orchestrated by a vigilante that wears a mask of Guy Fawkes and is known only by the name of V. This act is quickly hushed up by Norsefire in a statement to the public calling it an improvised emergency demolition, but behind closed doors the discussions are different:

The new Old Bailey will become the symbol of our time and the future that our conviction has rewarded us… This is a test. Moments such as these are matters of faith; to fail is to invite doubt into everything we believe and everything we have fought for. Doubt will plunge this country back into chaos and I will not let that happen.²

The very next day, V takes over the television network and exposes the lie to the whole state in an attempt to get the country to rise against the crimes of the government in an inspiring speech:

Click here to watch the video on YouTube (couldn’t embed it)

It is his master plan for the 5th of November, he wishes to blow up the Houses of Parliament as a symbol of ending the oppressive rule of the Norsefire party. He says:

People should not be afraid of their governments. Governments should be afraid of their people… The building is a symbol as is the act of destroying it. Symbols are given power by people. Alone a symbol is meaningless and with enough people blowing up a building can change the world.³

*****

A wild wind is spreading through the Middle East as I write, blowing life into countless souls that lay helplessly dead under the shackles of oppression, corruption and confinement of ideas, talent and speech. Voices that were locked behind bars of fear, unwilling to question the powers above, began to speak out, collectively getting louder and louder till they became like the unstoppable force of the roaring ocean. The governments tried to crush the initial murmurs, but in the same way a small stone can cause such unrest on the surface of a calm pond, each and every death galvanises those in search of freedom so much so that the false calm that was apparent to the uncaring world is being replaced by the blood of innocent people. In the world today as the prices of basic amenities rise, the only thing that seems to depreciate in value is the cost of human life, and in some places it has become the cheapest thing there is.

Symbols were there for all to see. In Iran, Neda Soltan became the face of thousands of people in support of the Green revolution after she was shot dead because she wanted freedom and a government that cared. In the disturbing video of her last moments, that caused an uproar among the population, she looks up at the camera, as if to ask, “What was my crime?” In Tunisia, what did Mohamed Bouazizi know that his act of setting fire to himself in public after being unable to sell vegetables without permission, would bring together a nation to take a step towards smelling the beautiful fragrance of freedom?

People will die, it is inevitable, but what the governments should remember is that they will never kill hope. From generation to generation, it is passed down behind closed doors and in secret gatherings. No matter how hard they try, the fire can not be extinguished. Hope is not a mortal, it is not bound by time, or flesh or blood.

To end this post I wish to share with you one of the final few scenes from the film, V for Vendetta, which is about exactly what I have just mentioned:

Why won’t you die? click to watch on YouTube (couldn’t embed it)

I only talk to God
When somebody’s about to die
I never cherished freedom
Freedom never cries
You can cry for her, die for her
Lay down your life for her
Kiss and wave goodbye to her
Anything at all…⁴

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Title: Viva la vida – Coldplay
Picture 1, showing newspaper cutting about the gunpowder plot taken from here
Picture 2, showing an old drawing of Westminster Palace taken from here
Picture 3, showing movie poster for V for Vendetta taken from here
Picture 4, showing a scene from V’s speech taken from video here
Picture 5, showing the final fighting scene taken from video here
¹Adapted from the BBC History, here
²Chancellor Sutler to giving advice to his workers
³V explaining his motives to Evey
⁴Freedom never cries – Five for fighting.