"It has been said that humanities’ mortality is the root cause for its creation of art. I am the embodiment of contradiction for that theory."
They are two sides of the same coin-either one will kill you, they’ll just think about it differently.
A perfect anarchist who was mutilated for his beliefs, but survived his torture and has created his ultimate dream. Now he presses on, crippled, but propelled by faith in a better world for all.
What a narrow street! The bowed windows of the upper floors encroach on the view of the bowed windows opposite, making it all very dark and shady down here in your carriage. You feel it slow down and stop, and there are raised voices outside. Craning your neck out of the door you see a smug cartsman ahead, whose cart is blocking just enough of the narrow street to make your passage impossible. He appears to be waiting for you to move, but your driver is hurling abuse at him and your horses are getting restless...