When people are afraid of you, they become less of what makes us human.
And they claim their fear is because of your inhumanity to them. But they have rid the world of the only thing that allowed us to learn how to speak a language, caress a face, and kiss a mouth.
Copying was the skill that made us joyous and wondrous and wonderful and wise at tender age, and beautiful so way beyond our years.
And now we are not allowed to copy, we can but regurgitate old ideas and ways of delivering them, as aborted foetus of failing parents.
And now we are not allowed to hope through canny observation, we can but repeat the old ways and sayings of proverbial idiots: the sanctuary of the lazy; the reduct of the crazed.
And when deep pockets are more important than deep thoughts, and when a child’s ingenuity is worth less than an adult’s pecuniary greed, then our humanity indeed has become as inhumane as never: as nothing ever was, since or before.