travelbug
"Ba dum de dum dum," my Grandfather hummed as he spun me around the lush gardens of his North Ireland mansion. "Grandpa, what is this dance called?" I asked, curious as to why I was perched so carefully on his feet. "This, my darling, is one of the oldest dances to date. This is called a waltz," he said, smiling his Grandpa smile. He dipped me back and I laughed, carefree.
Slash! Whip! One by one, flesh is teared. All because of skin pigment. Environment adaptation. All this, just because they wanted a better life. They tried to revolt.