These are my people. These are the angels the human race were meant to be. And then you created God.
(from the pages of The Hypocrisy of War}
In a world unlike ours, they wear no fancy clothes and have never heard of cars. Their homes are barely shelters, perhaps leaves held up by bamboo, providing little if any cover. They dance along the beach, until all hours of the night, rituals and celebrations are just their way of welcoming the night. When the sun slides across the moon, and the daylight takes its turn, they retreat into the jungle. where no one not like them, has dared to ever tread. Savages, has long been how they are referred, and because they have black skin, more than likely worse, but the mongers will never tell. A few photographs prove they exist, and a caring nation assures they are not extinct. No matter what picture the civilized world decides to paint, the people of North Sentinel Island have proven…
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