Winston's Plight
Try to remember a someone in the crowd, that certain shade of gray. The individual lies choking beneith the thick parade of conformity. He has taken his last breath and lies drowning in a sea of symetrical legs. Slowly he sinks deep into the shadowy crevices; pushed down by the cold masses. An amber match is struck- Another branch outward reduced to bitter ashes. Suffocation of the fittest.
