i've been watching this flag in the window across the tracks for two years, since the genocide began. i'm told the tenants are staying in some country somewhere in the asian west. it started out bright and intact, then faded and ripped in the sun, snow, rain, time and wind. the time of murderers, the wind of destruction and genocide. this is our time. the wind in freedom land is feeding the fires of the mind, and we can hardly think in this time. but now i see mysterious lights in the window of the faded and tattered flag.